•   THE  PATH  OF  THE  || 
MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 


;By  ALEXANDER  BAKSHY 


UCSB    UBKAIU 


THE  PATH  OF  THE  MODERN 

RUSSIAN    STAGE 


_c 


X 

— 


The    Path   of  the   Modern 

RUSSIAN  STAGE 

AND     OTHER     ESSAYS 


By 

ALEXANDER  BAKSHY 


With  Twelve  Pholeo  Illustrations 


JOHN  W.  LUCE  &  COMPANY 
BOSTON,  1918. 


COPYRIGHT 


PRINTED    IN    GREAT  BRITAIN   BY 
TURNBULL  &  SPEARS,  EDINBURGH 


.* 


U33A- 


PREFACE 

I  WISH  to  record  my  sincere  gratitude 
to  my  friends,  Mr  A.  B.  Clinkscales,  Mr 
Paul  Server,  and  Mr  Lancelot  Lawton,  who 
on  various  occasions  have  lent  me  their 
invaluable  assistance  in  keeping  in  check 
what  to  me  has  proved  a  source  of 
perpetual  annoyance — my  "  pronounced 
Russian  accent." 

My  thanks  are  also  due  to  Mr  Rothay 
Reynolds  and  Messrs  Mills  &  Boon  for 
permission  to  reproduce  a  photograph  of 
Mme.  Kommissarzhevsky,  and  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Society  for  the  Promotion  of 
Hellenic  Studies  for  a  favour  courteously 
rendered. 

A.  B. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE       v 

INTRODUCTION xi 

THE  PATH  OF  THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE — 

CHAP. 

I.  Historical  Review  ....  3 

II.  The  Moscow  Art  Theatre         .         .  23 

III.  The  Moscow  Art  Theatre  (continued)  .  38 

IV.  Kommissarzhevsky  and  Meyerhold    .  54 
V.  Meyerhold  (continued)      ...  67 

VI.  Evereinov,  Fokin,  and  Benois  .         .  77 

VII.  Conclusion      .....  89 

VlACHESLAV  IVANOV — A  POET  PHILOSOPHER  OF 

MODERN  RUSSIA 99 

LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE — 

I.  Consulting  the  Cyclops  and  the  Elephant 

on  Problems  of  Art           .         .          .  123 

II.  The  Spectator  Sitting  in  Judgment       .  141 

III.  Table  of  Forms  of  the  Theatre     .         .196 

A  NOTE  ON  MR  GORDON  CRAIG'S  THEORIES    .  199 

THE  KlNEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART        .        .        .  207 

INDEX  .         .        .  .    .,. 241 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

I.  A.  Chekhov's  "THREE  SISTERS"  (Act 
I.)  on  the  Stage  of  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre  (x)  .  .  .  frontispiece 

PAGE 

II.  A  Scene  in  "  UNCLE  VANIA  "  by  A. 
Chekhov,  produced  at  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre  (*)  .  .  .  .  17 

III.  The  Moscow  Art  Theatre's  staging  of 

"THE  CHERRY  ORCHARD"  by  A. 
Chekhov  (!) 25 

IV.  Characters  from  "  THE  BLUE  BIRD  " 

by  M.  Maeterlinck — (i)  "  SUGAR  "  ; 
(2)  "  TIME  "  ;  (3)  "  BREAD  "  ;  the 
production  on  the  Stage  of  the 
Moscow  Art  Theatre  ...  33 

V.  VERA  KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  in  "  SISTER 
BEATRICE  "  by  M.  Maeterlinck,  as 
produced  by  V.  Meyerhold  .  .  49 

VI.  Sketch  by  N.  Sapunov  for  Alexander 
Block's  "  LITTLE  BOOTH,"  produced 
by  V.  Meyerhold  at  the  Theatre  of 
V.  Kommissarzhevsky  (2)  .  .  65 

VII.  "  ST  PATRICK'S  PURGATORY  "  on  the 
Stage  of  the  Old-Time  Theatre, 
from  an  architectural  design  by 
V.  Shchuko  (3)  .  .  .  .81 


x         THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

PAGE 

VIII.  THE  THEATRE  AT  ATHENS         .         .       129 

IX.  A  Typical  Shakespearian  Stage.  [Re- 
construction by  V.  E.  ALBRIGHT]  (4)  145 

X.  A.  Chekhov's  "THREE  SISTERS"  (Act 
III.)  on  the  Stage  of  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre  (*)  .  .  .  .  161 

XL  "  THE  INSPECTOR-GENERAL  "  by 
Nicholas  Gogol,  as  produced  at  the 
Moscow  Art  Theatre  (5)  .  .  177 

XII.  An  Italian  Perspective  Scenery  of  the 

Seventeenth  Century  (6)         .         .       193 

The  Illustrations  marked  with  figures  are  reproduced  from 
the  following  books  : — 

(*)  MOSKOVSKY  KHUDOZHESTVENNY  TEATR.     Pieci  Chekh- 
ova.     Albom  "  Solntsa  Rossii." 

(*)  "  APOLLON,"  1914,  No.  4. 

(3)  G.  K.  LUKOMSKY.     Starinnie  Teatri. 

(4)  THE  SHAKSPERIAN  STAGE.     By  V.  E.  Albright.     New 
York. 

(*)  MOSKOVSKY      KHUDOZHESTVENNY      TEATR.       Izdanie 
zhurnala  "  Rampa  i  Zhizn." 

(')  ARCHITECTURA  CIVILIS.    By  Joseph  Furttenbach.    Ulm, 
1628. 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  modern  developments  of  the  stage 
have  been  so  complex  and  so  intimately 
connected  with  the  actual  conditions  of 
theatre-work  that  nothing  but  scholarly 
research  or  practical  knowledge  of  the  stage 
would  seem  to  justify  an  author  in  venturing 
before  the  public  with  his  own  ideas  on  the 
subject.  Yet  neither  of  these  require- 
ments have  I  been  able  to  fulfil.  I  have 
carried  out  no  independent  historical  re- 
search, nor  have  I  ever  worked  in  the 
theatre,  which  facts,  perhaps,  will  hardly 
need  pointing  out  to  competent  readers. 
If,  however,  in  spite  of  these  admissions, 
I  have  the  courage  of  laying  down  my  views 
on  problems  that  engage  the  minds  of  so 
many  serious  and  thoroughly  competent 
workers,  I  do  so  only  in  the  belief  that  the 
ideas  I  set  forth  throw  new  light  on  vital 
aspects  of  the  theatre. 


xii      THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

It  is  not  for  me  to  say  whether  or  not 
my  conviction  in  this  respect  is  fully  war- 
ranted. All  I  can  advance  in  its  justifica- 
tion is  that  I  have  applied  to  the  problem 
of  the  theatre  the  principles  which  I  have 
formed  in  studying  art  in  general,  and 
which,  to  my  knowledge,  have  never  been 
adequately  stated.  Perhaps,  I  may  go 
further,  and  say  that  these  principles  rest 
on  certain  philosophical  conceptions,  though 
I  am  aware  that  by  making  this  statement 
I  lay  myself  open  to  the  grave  charge  of 
"  intellectualism,"  the  deadliest  sin  that 
the  modern  artist  can  conceive  of.  In 
order  to  allay  the  suspicions  of  such 
purists,  it  is  necessary  to  explain  with  all 
promptitude  that  at  the  root  of  my 
theorizing  lies  the  belief  that  the  sense 
of  individuality,  i.e.  the  perception  of  con- 
tinuity and  discontinuity,  is  the  primary 
factor  which  determines  our  attitude  to- 
wards the  work  of  art,  and,  consequently, 
as  I  maintain,  the  very  form  which  this 
work  assumes. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  enlarge  upon  the 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

philosophical  significance  of  the  principle 
of  individuality,  as  I  personally  conceive 
it.  Those  of  its  aspects  which  come 
nearest  to  the  problem  of  the  theatre,  are 
broadly  indicated  in  the  essay  on  Viache- 
slav  Ivanov.  In  the  other  essays  of  this 
volume  I  endeavour  to  disclose  the  bearing 
of  this  principle  on  the  experience  of 
spatial  forms,  and  to  trace  its  influence 
throughout  the  evolution  of  the  theatre. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  I  examine  the 
problem  from  the  standpoint  of  the  spec- 
tator, and  persistently  lay  stress  on  the 
effect  which  the  attitude  of  the  spectator 
produces  on  the  form  of  art.  This  may 
appear  a  truism  needing  no  special  emphasis 
for  those  who  hold  that  art  is  entirely  a 
subjective  phenomenon.  But,  for  my  own 
part,  I  do  not  share  that  theory,  and  my 
insistence  on  the  role  of  the  spectator  has 
a  different  meaning  and  proceeds  from 
different  reasons.  Only  a  few  points,  how- 
ever, in  this  most  involved  problem  need 
be  stated  here. 

The    spectator    not    merely    experiences 


xiv      THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

certain  excitations  which  the  work  of  art 
may  cause  in  him.  He  may  be  impressed 
by  its  beauty  or  even  ugliness,  and  yet 
remain  unconscious  of  its  artistic  nature. 
It  is  only  when  he  projects  his  sensations 
and  invests  them  with  a  reality  that  is  in- 
dependent of,  and  distinct  from  himself, 
that  the  work  he  observes  earns  its  title 
to  be  regarded  as  "  art."  It  follows  that 
the  phenomenon  of  art  arises  neither  in 
the  work  itself,  nor  in  the  spectator,  but 
just  between  them,  in  that  line  of  contact 
and  division,  which  is  established  by  their 
reaction  the  one  upon  the  other.  Stated 
in  other  words,  this  means  that  a  detached 
observation  of  an  object  asserts  its  reality 
for  the  spectator,  or,  what  is  the  same, 
brings  out  its  form  as  an  entity  complete 
in  itself.  But  it  is  obvious  that  the  object 
viewed  must  possess  certain  properties  that 
would  enable  it  to  assert  itself  against  the 
spectator,  and  here  the  distinction  between 
a  work  of  art  and  an  ordinary  object  is  made 
manifest  in  the  greater  power  with  which 
the  former  realizes  its  particular  "  self  "  in 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

the  medium  selected.  Two  conclusions 
can  be  drawn  from  these  definitions.  First, 
that  what  is  termed  an  art  work  is  only  of 
relative  nature,  differing  from  other  objects 
solely  in  degree  and  not  in  substance.  And 
second,  that  the  usual  opposition  of  "  form  " 
and  "  subject "  has  no  meaning  in  art, 
since  a  "  subject  "  can  reach  our  artistic 
consciousness  only  inasmuch  as  it  assumes 
a  definite  form.  It  is  the  subject,  for  in- 
stance, that  impresses  us  in  the  geometrical 
drawing  of  a  garden  in  Egyptian  frescoes. 
But  in  what  way  does  it  reveal  itself  to  our 
mind  ?  It  does  so  in  the  peculiar  com- 
position of  the  drawing,  which  stands  before 
us  as  an  independent  spatial  entity  ex- 
pressing a  definite  attitude  of  mind  on  the 
part  of  the  artist. 

Since  the  form  of  a  work  of  art  is  deter- 
mined by  the  interaction  between  the  work 
itself  and  the  spectator,  it  is  futile  to  look 
for  specific  forms  of  artistic  expression, 
unless  both  the  medium  used  and  the  chang- 
ing attitudes  of  the  spectator  are  studied 
in  their  mutual  relationship.  In  the  case 


xvi     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

of  visual  arts  this  line  of  contact  and 
division  must  of  necessity  realize  itself 
in  space,  asserting  itself  with  the  greater 
power,  the  more  sensitive  is  the  beholder 
to  spatial  forms. 

If  we  now  inquire  into  the  nature  of  our 
perception  of  space,  we  shall  find  it  com- 
posed of  two  elements — extension  and 
colour.  Both  these  elements  contribute 
to  the  effect  of  form  as  perceived  by  the 
spectator,  but  the  power  of  asserting  their 
boundaries  against  the  latter  is  far  more 
effective  in  extension  than  it  is  in  colour. 
Line,  surface  and  volume  make  us  instantly 
conscious  of  our  position  towards  an  object  as 
an  independent  entity.  Not  so  with  colour. 
Normally,  colour  merely  fills  the  boundaries 
marked  by  extension,  indicating  the  pres- 
ence of  some  matter.  It  is  only  when  it 
ceases  to  be  neutral  and  makes  a  direct 
appeal  to  the  eye  by  some  peculiar  quality 
(intensity,  combination,  etc.)  that  it  esta- 
blishes itself  as  a  form.  In  this  case,  it  is 
interesting  to  note,  colour  itself  partakes 
of  the  nature  of  extension,  and  we  feel  it 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

then  as  something  tangible  and  materia- 
lized in  space.  For  that  reason  one  would 
be  justified  in  saying  that  in  visual  arts  the 
perception  of  extension  is  the  primary 
factor  that  determines  the  form,  or  in- 
dividual identity  of  a  work. 

These  brief  remarks  indicate  the  stand- 
point from  which  I  approach  the  problem 
of  the  theatre.  As  I  see  it,  it  is  mainly  a 
problem  of  the  relationship  between  the 
stage  and  the  auditorium,  expressed  in 
terms  of  space.  Moreover,  I  firmly  be- 
lieve that  the  history  of  theatrical  forms 
fully  bears  out  the  importance  which  I 
attach  to  this  relationship.  Throughout 
the  ages  of  theatre-development,  the  posi- 
tion of  the  spectator  with  regard  to  the 
play  produced,  has  been  the  chief  factor 
in  fashioning  the  form  of  dramatic  per- 
formance. As  this  position  was  itself  a 
resultant  of  two  forces — one  coming  from 
the  spectator,  and  the  other  from  the  per- 
formance— the  form  created  also  assumed 
two  faces,  one  turned  to  the  audience, 
and  the  other  to  the  stage.  As  seen  by  the 


xviii    THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

spectator,  theatre-performances  have  re- 
solved themselves  into  a  series  of  visual 
impressions  varying  in  the  degree  of  spatial 
discontinuity  and,  consequently,  in  the 
degree  of  opposition  between  the  world 
portrayed  (in  its  completeness,  or  separate 
parts)  and  his  own  individuality.  Re- 
garded from  the  point  of  view  of  the  stage, 
performances  have  ranged  themselves 
according  to  the  manner  in  which  the 
medium  of  the  theatre,  as  such,  was  treated, 
assuming  presentational  character  when 
the  peculiar  nature  of  the  medium  was 
frankly  admitted,  and  representational 
character  when  the  object  was  to  conceal 
that  nature  and  create  an  illusion  of  an 
entirely  different  world.  But  as  visual 
effects  form  the  chief  means  of  the  art  of 
the  theatre,  both  these  methods — presenta- 
tion and  representation — had  to  be  realized 
in  terms  of  space  and  were,  thereby,  of 
necessity, -translated  into  the  spatial  forms 
of  continuity  and  discontinuity. 

It  is  a  priori  evident  that  the  combina- 
tions arising  out  of  the  interaction  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

two  moments  just  described  must  be  com- 
plex and  manifold.  To  analyse  them  all 
would  take  me  far  beyond  the  task  I  have 
set  out  to  fulfil  in  the  present  volume.  So 
that  I  have  confined  myself  to  indicating 
the  main  forms  of  the  theatre,  illustrat- 
ing them  with  examples  taken  from  the 
Russian,  English  and  Greek  theatres,  of 
the  actual  construction  and  working  of 
which  I  have  a  wider  knowledge  than  of 
the  theatres  of  other  countries. 

In  my  examination  I  have  pursued  the 
method  of  construing  up  the  position  of 
the  spectator  and  determining  the  nature 
of  the  dramatic  effect  produced  in  each 
particular  case.  I  will  readily  admit  that 
the  results  I  have  thus  obtained,  are  often 
conjectural  and  open  to  the  charge  of 
being  interpreted  in  a  too  subjective 
manner.  But  though  in  some  cases  my 
conclusions  may  be  lacking  in  complete 
justification,  this  fact  does  not  destroy  my 
conviction  that  the  method  adopted  in 
this  study,  provides  a  signal  means  of  com- 
prehending the  nature  of  the  theatre  and 


xx       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

of  gaining  insight  into  the  inner  structure 
of  the  phenomena  which  have  hitherto 
appeared  as  devoid  of  form  and  as  defying 
analysis. 

However  this  may  be,  it  would  be  hard 
to  expect  that  my  views  will  meet  with 
immediate  and  universal  acceptance.  I 
can  foresee  innumerable  objections.  But 
I  will  deal  only  with  one  of  them  here,  for 
it  has  a  direct  bearing  on  the  subject  of  my 
essay,  "  The  Path  of  the  Modern  Russian 
Stage/' 

Since  the  memorable  visits  of  Russian 
ballet  and  opera  to  this  country,  the  main 
achievement  of  the  Russian  stage  has  been 
associated  in  the  public  mind  with  the 
striking  pictorial  effects  which  the  Russian 
artists  introduced  in  the  methods  of  setting. 
The  reader  may,  therefore,  be  justly  sur- 
prised at  rinding  that  the  present  volume 
contains  but  scanty  reference  to  the  work 
of  those  artists  and  the  problems  attaching 
to  the  scenic  use  of  pictorial  element.  It 
will,  probably,  be  argued  that  this  gap  is 
due  to  the  natural  limitations  of  my  method 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

which,  it  would  seem,  leaves  outside  its 
scope  the  scenic  significance  of  colour. 
This  conclusion,  however,  will  not  be 
justified.  Far  from  ignoring  the  import- 
ance of  colour,  I  believe  that  the  theatre 
will  ever  extend  the  use  of  colour-effects, 
developing  them  along  the  lines  suggested 
by  such  students  of  mobile  colour  as  Mr 
Rimington  and  the  late  Scriabin.  But 
this  circumstance  will  never  be  able  to  alter 
the  fact  that  as  a  power  fashioning  the 
form  of  a  theatrical  performance,  colour 
will  always  remain  subordinate  to  extension, 
serving  only  to  qualify  the  relationship 
between  the  stage  and  the  spectator  by 
giving  form  to  secondary  characteristics 
of  the  play,  such  as  style,  character,  etc. 
It  is  significant  that  the  domination  of 
the  painter  on  the  Russian  stage  started 
with  the  first  attempts  at  "  stylisation  " 
initiated  by  Meyerhold  with  his  flat,  de- 
corative scenery.  The  sway  of  colour  in 
ballet  and  opera  has  been  due  to  the  same 
striving  after  style  in  representation,  and 
now  that  the  idea  of  presentation,  accord- 


xxii    THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

ing  to  the  specific  nature  of  each  medium 
used,  is  gaming  an  ever  increasing  popu- 
larity in  drama,  opera,  and  ballet,  we  see  the 
purely  pictorial  element  gradually  brought 
down  to  its  legitimate  but  quite  subordinate 
position.  But  despite  the  pictorial  rule  of 
the  last  ten  years,  the  main  line  of  develop- 
ment of  the  Russian  stage  has  never  swerved 
from  the  fundamental  problem  oi  form,  in 
the  attempted  solutions  of  which  the 
Russian  theatre  has  scored  its  most  con- 
spicuous and  most  endurable  triumphs. 
For  such  reasons,  I  thought  it  unnecessary 
to  dwell  in  this  volume  on  the  scenic  work 
of  Russian  artists,  reserving  it  for  an 
account  of  modern  Russian  painting,  where, 
in  all  propriety,  it  should  be  treated. 

To  speak  of  art  aspects  of  the  kine- 
matograph  may  appear  ludicrous  in  the 
eyes  of  the  modern  artist,  but  I  make  no 
apology  for  including  here  an  essay  on  this 
subject.  The  time  is  not  far  off  when  only 
the  blind  will  fail  to  see  the  immense  artistic 
possibilities  of  this  much  abused  mechanical 
device.  Meanwhile,  I  am  glad  to  note  that 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

during  the  last  three  years  which  have 
elapsed  since  my  essay  was  written,  the 
progress  made  has  completely  vindicated 
the  principles  which  I  then  laid  down  as 
the  condition  of  artistic  development  of  the 
kinematograph.  Thus,  we  have  had  ballets 
and  pantomimes  (Reinhardt's  "  Miracle," 
for  instance)  "  featured "  on  the  film, 
whilst  in  Moscow,  I  have  heard,  a  school  of 
kinema-acting  has  been  established  in  which 
actors  are  taught  dramatic  expression  and 
rhythmic  movement  according  to  Delsarte 
and  Dalcroze !  It  is  true,  so  far  even 
the  best  productions  have  shown  little 
appreciation  of  the  real  nature  of  the 
medium,  but  the  efforts  made  are  in  the 
right  direction  and  encourage  the  hope  that 
greater  successes  will  soon  follow. 


THE  PATH  OF  THE 
MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 


THE  PATH  OF  THE 
MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

CHAPTER  I 

HISTORICAL   REVIEW 

THE  English  public  has  been  watching 
these  last  few  years  the  display  of  wonder- 
ful theatrical  wares  which  the  Russian 
dancers  and  singers  have  chosen  to  bring 
over  to  this  country.  The  spectacle  has 
been  a  startling  revelation  of  the  wealth 
of  artistic  treasures  possessed  by  Russia — 
that  land  of  snow,  and  vodka,  and  down- 
trodden "  moujicks."  Moreover,  the  wares 
themselves  have  been  dazzling  with  colours 
that  seemed  to  outshine  everything  of  the 
kind  produced  at  home.  The  ballet,  with 
its  feast  of  gorgeous  scenery  and  rapturous 
dancing,  first  introduced  the  modern 
Russian  stage  to  this  country,  and  the 
English  public  quickly  abandoned  itself 


4         THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

to  its  Baksts,  its  Fokins,  its  Pavlovas,  and 
its  Karsavinas.  Next  the  opera  came,  and 
the  melodies  of  Moussorgsky,  Rimsky- 
Korsakov,  and  Borodin,  and  Chalia- 
pin's  remarkable  impersonations  captured 
another  corner  in  the  public  mind.  The 
last  season  of  the  Russian  opera  and 
ballet  at  Drury  Lane  provided  the  latest 
wonder :  a  cross,  as  it  were,  between 
ballet  and  opera  which  resulted  in  the 
bewildering  production  of  "  Le  Coq  d'Or." 
Lastly,  but  for  the  unfortunate  events 
which  since  August  1914  have  set  the 
world  aflame,  the  English  public  would 
have  been  given  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
the  performances  of  that  renowned  com- 
pany of  actors — the  Moscow  Art  Theatre. 
This,  however,  was  not  to  be.  So,  until 
better  times,  the  relations  which  began  to 
grow  between  the  Russian  and  the  English 
stages  are  arrested  in  their  development, 
and  the  public  of  this  country  is  left  to 
its  own  ingenuity  to  piece  together  what- 
ever scattered  impressions  of  the  Russian 
theatre  it  may  have  been  able  to  form. 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  5 

While  admiring  Russian  productions,  the 
public  seems  to  be  completely  in  the 
dark  as  to  their  mutual  interdependence, 
their  inner  significance  and  the  bearing 
they  have  on  the  development  of  the 
theatre.  Taken  separately,  as  isolated 
phenomena,  the  Russian  productions  that 
have  passed  before  the  eyes  of  the 
London  audiences,  have  betrayed  no 
signs  of  their  origin  :  of  the  history  of  the 
various  movements  in  Russia  appertaining 
to  the  theatre,  their  victories  and  their 
defeats,  and  the  great  research  and  ex- 
perimental work  of  which  these  productions 
have  been  the  crowning  achievement.  It 
is  my  object  in  this  essay  to  help  to  fill 
in  the  design  that  will  show  the  main  lines 
of  progress  and  the  forces  at  work  in  deter- 
mining their  direction. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  Russian 
theatre  which  now,  doubtless,  stands  in  the 
very  first  rank  of  contemporary  national 
theatres,  is  barely  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  old.  At  the  time  when  England  had 
already  passed  her  zenith  in  the  history 


6         THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

of  her  theatre,  Russia  could  boast  only 
of  a  not  too  numerous  class  of  jesters  and 
jugglers,  of  miracle-plays  which  were  few 
in  number  and  most  crudely  primitive  in 
execution,  and  of  the  school  theatres  at 
Kiev,  which  were  mere  faint  echoes  of 
Polish  and  Latin  influences. 

The  proper  stage  appeared  in  Russia  for 
the  first  time  only  in  the  reign  of  Alexis 
Mikhailovich.  Foreign  influences  were 
slowly  spreading  all  over  the  country, 
undermining  the  old  customs  and  creating 
new  demands.  The  Tsar  himself,  after  a 
period  of  pious  life  accompanied  by  pro- 
hibitions of  every  kind  of  popular  amuse- 
ment, gradually  yielded  to  the  natural 
appeal  of  worldly  distractions  and  decided 
to  have  a  theatre  at  his  court.  No  Russian 
actors  being  available,  the  actors  had  to 
be  obtained  from  abroad,  and  we  have  it 
recorded  that  in  1660  Tsar  Alexis  personally 
instructed  an  Englishman,  Hebdon,  to  get 
for  him  in  foreign  lands,  to  use  his  own 
words,  "  carvers  on  wood  and  stone,  glass 
makers  and  masters  of  acting  comedy." 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  7 

This  attempt,  as  well  as  another  made 
twelve  years  later,  proved  a  failure.  In  the 
latter  case  the  Tsar's  men  at  first  succeeded 
in  securing  the  services  of  Velten,  the 
famous  actor  of  the  time,  and  Anna  Poulsen, 
the  prima-donna  of  the  Copenhagen 
theatre.  But  the  enquiries  made  by  these 
actors  of  their  friends  in  Russia,  as  to 
what  life  was  like  in  that  country,  revealed 
a  state  of  things  that  was  not  altogether  in- 
viting. They  were  informed  that  foreigners, 
if  their  services  were  valued  by  the  authori- 
ties, were  never  allowed  to  leave  Muscovy, 
and  if  found  guilty  of  some  offence,  or  if 
they  incurred  the  displeasure  of  the  powers 
that  be,  were  in  danger  of  being  knouted 
or  sent  to  Siberia.  Naturally,  the  over- 
fastidious  foreign  actors  refused  the  honour 
of  entertaining  the  Tsar.  Fortunately  for 
the  latter,  as  well  as  for  the  future  of  the 
Russian  theatre,  there  happened  to  live  in 
Moscow  at  that  time  a  German  pastor,  one 
Gregori,  who  volunteered  to  assist  the  Tsar 
in  creating  a  theatre.  The  coveted  wish 
was  thus  soon  realized,  and  on  October  I7th, 


8         THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

1672,  the  first  recorded  performance  in 
Russia  was  given  before  the  Tsar  and  his 
court  in  a  specially  built  wooden  hall. 
Other  productions  followed,  and  the  theatre 
flourished  for  four  years,  until  the  death 
of  Tsar  Alexis  and  the  subsequent  dis- 
turbances in  the  life  of  the  court  put  an 
end  to  this  interesting  venture. 

As  regards  Oregon's  repertoire  it  is 
remarkable  that  his  plays  were  mostly 
borrowed  from  the  popular  repertoire  of 
the  German  theatre  of  the  generation 
preceding  his  own,  which,  as  is  well  known, 
assimilated  the  plays  and  the  methods  of 
the  early  English  comedians.  Thus  the 
"  pickleherring,"  the  familiar  comic  figure 
of  the  mediaeval  English  theatre,  advancing 
via  the  German  stage,  found  himself  eventu- 
ally installed  on  the  boards  of  the  newly- 
born  Russian  theatre.  Another  echo  of 
the  English  drama  we  find  in  the  produc- 
tion of  Tamburlaine — a  remote  offspring  of 
Marlowe's  famous  tragedy.  In  addition 
to  foreign  plays  a  few  plays  on  Biblical 
subjects,  written  by  Russian  writers,  were 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  9 

also  produced,  but,  needless  to  say,  they 
were  mere  imitations  of  the  established 
type. 

After  a  period  of  suspense  following 
upon  the  death  of  Tsar  Alexis  the  theatre 
was  again  brought  to  life  in  the  reign 
of  Peter  the  Great.  By  this  Tsar,  the 
theatre  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  salient 
features  of  the  cultivated  life  of  the  West, 
and  he  introduced  it  in  Russia,  together 
with  his  other  reforms,  with  the  object  of 
civilizing  his  backward  subjects.  A  special 
theatre  was  built  in  Moscow  and  various 
facilities,  such  as  exemption  from  customary 
toll  on  entering  the  Kremlin,  were  afforded 
the  people  in  order  to  spread  more  widely 
the  new  form  of  entertainment.  But  this 
effort  was  crowned  with  but  a  small  measure 
of  success,  mainly  owing  to  the  fact  that 
the  German  language  in  which  the  plays 
were  performed  rendered  them  unintelligible 
to  the  Russian  audience,  whilst  the  pieces 
produced  in  Russian,  as  well  as  the  acting 
of  the  Russian  players,  seem  to  have 
failed  in  satisfying  even  the  not  too  exact- 


io       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

ing  tastes  of  that  time.  The  closing  of 
this  theatre,  however,  did  not  put  an  end 
to  the  drama  in  Russia.  The  initiative 
passed  into  private  hands,  and  particularly 
amongst  the  upper  classes,  and  at  the 
schools  amateur  theatricals  became  more 
and  more  popular. 

The  determining  factor  in  the  planting 
of  the  drama  on  Russian  soil  was  the  spread 
of  education  which  helped  to  create  a 
dramatic  literature,  cultivated  actors,  and 
a  receptive  public.  By  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century  we  find  all  these  three 
elements  fully  in  evidence,  and  since  the 
establishment  of  a  theatre  by  Elizabeth, 
daughter  of  Peter  the  Great,  the  theatre 
in  Russia  may  be  said  to  have  found  its 
feet. 

The  names  of  Fyodor  Volkov  and  Ivan 
Dmitrevsky  stand  particularly  conspicu- 
ous in  that  early  period  of  the  Russian 
stage.  The  son  of  a  provincial  merchant, 
Volkov  was  apprenticed  to  his  step-father's 
trade,  and,  while  still  in  his  youth,  came 
to  St  Petersburg.  There  he  made  acquaint- 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  n 

ance  with  the  theatre  which  captured  his 
imagination  to  such  a  degree  that  on 
returning  home  to  Yaroslavle  he  immedi- 
ately started  a  theatre  of  his  own.  His 
enterprize  was  crowned  with  an  instant 
success  which  aroused  interest  in  his  work 
amongst  the  more  cultivated  members  of 
the  local  nobility,  and  soon  led  to  his  being 
called  to  the  capital  by  the  Empress  herself. 
He  arrived  there  with  his  company,  which 
also  included  his  friend  Dmitrevsky,  pleased 
the  Empress  at  his  trial  performance  at 
the  Court,  and  with  his  actor-friends  was 
sent  to  the  Cadet  School  to  complete  his 
education.  Thus  the  nucleus  of  the  first 
trained  company  of  Russian  actors  was 
formed,  making  possible  the  establishment 
of  a  permanent  Court  theatre.  Exceptional 
intelligence  and  organizing  gifts  naturally 
placed  Volkov  at  the  head  of  the  company, 
whilst  his  efforts  to  popularize  the  art  he 
loved  so  much,  in  the  country  have  earned 
him  the  name  of  "  the  father  of  the  Russian 
theatre."  As  an  actor,  however,  Volkov 
was  less  remarkable  than  his  fellow-worker 


12       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

Dmitrevsky.  A  man  of  great  intellect,  of 
broad  and  refined  culture,  and  exceptional 
dramatic  genius,  Dmitrevsky  was  the  first 
Russian  to  rise  to  the  standard  of  acting 
that  was  set  up  by  the  best  representatives 
of  the  European  stage  of  his  time.  He 
visited  France  and  England  and  is  said  to 
have  been  on  friendly  terms  with  Garrick. 
Many  legends  have  grown  round  his  name 
in  Russia,  but  one  of  them,  describing  an 
episode  during  his  stay  in  England,  has 
all  the  air  of  verisimilitude.  As  the  story 
goes,  at  one  of  the  dinner  parties  given  by 
Garrick  the  discussion  turned  to  the  ques- 
tion of  the  actor's  control  over  his  body. 
Garrick's  own  skill  in  this  respect  was 
remarkable  :  at  will  he  could  make  his 
face  blush  or  go  pale,  could  burst  into 
laughter  and  immediately  melt  into  tears. 
While  the  guests  were  watching  Garrick, 
it  was  suddenly  noticed  that  something 
went  wrong  with  Dmitrevsky :  he  was 
trembling  like  a  leaf,  his  lips  were  mutter- 
ing some  unintelligible  words,  and  with  a 
blanched  face  he  dropped  motionless  in  his 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  13 

chair.  All  rushed  to  help  him,  but  Dmit- 
revsky  as  quickly  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
stood  laughing,  heartily  enjoying  the  suc- 
cess of  his  trick.  In  his  manner  of  acting 
Dmitrevsky  belonged  to  the  French  school, 
and  it  was  mainly  through  his  influence 
that  the  classic  French  repertoire  was 
established  on  the  Russian  stage. 

As  a  luxury  imported  from  abroad,  for  a 
considerable  period  the  Russian  theatre  was 
naturally  dominated  by  the  foreign  models 
from  which  it  was  derived.  So  plays  were 
written  after  the  classic  style  then  in  vogue, 
and  acting  was  couched  in  the  traditions 
of  the  contemporary  foreign  stage.  Italian, 
German,  and  French  influences  all  left  their 
mark  during  this  first  period  of  the  Russian 
theatre,  the  period  which  lasted  well  into 
the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
Only  with  the  creation  of  a  national 
dramatic  literature  did  the  Russian  theatre 
begin  to  acquire  a  face  that  was  peculiarly 
its  own. 

Three  authors  laid  the  foundation  of  that 
literature  :  Griboyedov,  Gogol,  and  Ostrov- 


14       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

sky,  who  all  represented  successive  grades 
in  the  development  of  the  Russian  classic 
repertoire.  Griboyedov's  contribution  was 
confined  to  the  single  play  of  "  Sorrow  from 
Wisdom,"  which  combined  the  most 
poignant  satire  on  the  society  of  the  time 
with  a  picture  of  the  spiritual  drama  of 
an  idealist  placed  in  a  world  of  human 
monsters.  The  epigrammatic  briskness  of 
its  dialogue,  the  wonderful  moulding  of 
its  characters,  and  the  general  liveliness 
of  its  action  have  made  "  Sorrow  from 
Wisdom  "  one  of  the  most  popular  Russian 
comedies.  Still  greater  influence  in  the 
Russian  theatre  belonged  to  Gogol's 
"  Getting  Married "  and  "  Inspector- 
General."  They  both  appeared  in  the 
thirties  of  the  last  century  and  up  to  this 
day  have  not  lost  a  particle  of  their  capti- 
vating charm.  Gogol's  characters  are  taken 
from  a  lower  station  of  life  than  Griboye- 
dov's, marking  in  this  respect  a  continuous 
democratization  of  the  Russian  drama, 
but,  if  anything,  they  are  even  more  strongly 
and  subtly  wrought.  "  The  Inspector- 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  15 

General,"  in  particular,  may  be  regarded 
as  the  greatest  play  in  the  Russian  language 
extant,  so  superb  is  the  inner  coherence  of 
its  parts,  and  so  profoundly  fundamental 
seem  to  be  the  innumerable  human  masks 
revealed  in  the  chiselled  attitudes  of  its 
characters.  If  Griboyedov  and  Gogol  set 
up  the  standard  of  literary  and  dramatic 
perfection,  it  was  left  to  Ostrovsky  to 
provide  a  varied  and  national  repertoire. 
Hitherto  musical  vaudeville  and  soul-tearing 
melodrama  had  dominated  the  stage,  but 
Ostrovsky  opened  out  a  new  epoch  of  the 
Russian  theatre  when  he  introduced  his 
uncouth  and  rough  world  of  petty  officials, 
tradesmen,  and  peasants,  which  he  por- 
trayed with  painstaking  realism,  whilst  yet 
preserving  a  complete  command  of  the 
dramatic  form.  In  this  way  the  genre  play 
became  established  on  the  stage,  where  it 
held  sway  right  down  to  our  own  time,  with 
this  difference,  however,  compared  with  the 
time  of  Ostrovsky,  that  in  the  hands  of  his 
followers  it  soon  deteriorated  into  cheap 
problem  play  and  shallow  anecdote. 


16       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

To  complete  this  review  of  the  dramatic 
literature  as  we  find  it  on  the  eve  of  this 
century,  mention  should  be  made  of 
Sukhovo-Kobilin,  Leo  Tolstoy,  Turgenev, 
and  Alexis  Tolstoy.  They  all  occupied 
somewhat  isolated  positions  amongst  the 
playwrights  of  their  time,  and  their  con- 
tributions to  the  art  of  the  drama  were 
few  and  sporadic.  Sukhovo-Kobilin's  fame 
rests  chiefly  on  his  "  Krechinsky's 
Marriage,"  which,  indeed,  is  a  truly  re- 
markable piece  of  work.  Its  grotesque  and 
tragic  humour,  in  conjunction  with  the 
wonderful  simplicity  of  its  plot,  recalls 
the  methods  of  Moliere  and  makes  one 
regret  that  the  play  is  totally  unknown 
outside  Russia.  The  two  plays  by  Leo 
Tolstoy,  '  The  Fruits  of  Culture "  and 
'  The  Power  of  Darkness,"  together  with 
his  posthumous  play  "  The  Live  Corpse," 
reveal  the  monumental  workmanship,  so 
characteristic  of  this  author.  The  first 
two  are  the  more  powerful,  and  '  The 
Fruits  of  Culture  "  is,  perhaps,  the  best  of 
the  three.  Here  is  a  case  when  incessant 


3 
TJ 
O 


$ 


u 
p 

_c 
w 

q 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  17 

movement  on  the  stage,  continuous  coming 
in  and  out,  is  not  a  sham  bustle  introduced 
by  the  stage-manager  for  the  sake  of  realistic 
suggestion,  but  is  indissolubly  bound  up 
with  the  life  portrayed.  Turgenev's  plays 
did  not  enjoy  great  popularity  during  the 
period  reviewed  here,  and  for  the  simple 
reason  that  their  lyrical  tone,  their  sub- 
dued and  gentle  emotionalism,  and  their 
subtle  form  made  them  virtually  foreign 
and  unintelligible  to  the  majority  of  actors 
and  playgoers.  Only  when  the  plays  of 
Chekhov,  so  kindred  to  Turgenev's  in  tone 
and  treatment,  were  firmly  installed  in 
the  popular  favour  by  the  efforts  of  the 
Moscow  Art  Theatre,  was  Turgenev's  claim 
to  recognition  also  unreservedly  admitted. 
Lastly,  it  remains  to  mention  Count  Alexis 
Tolstoy's  historical  trilogy  :  '  The  Death 
of  Ivan  the  Terrible,"  :'  Tsar  Fyodor,"  and 
"  Tsar  Boris  " — which  together  with  Push- 
kin's "  Boris  Godunov  "  form  characteristic 
specimens  of  poetic  tragedy  in  the  Russian 
theatre. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  position  of  the 


i8       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

stage  and  cast  a  cursory  glance  at  its 
development  during  that  period,  the 
dramatic  literature  of  which  has  just  been 
outlined.  In  the  beginning  of  the  last 
century  Russia  had  two  State-controlled 
theatres  in  Petrograd  and  Moscow.  In 
addition  to  these,  there  were  theatres  in 
the  provincial  cities  and  numerous  private 
stages  on  the  estates  of  wealthy  land- 
owners who  kept  companies  of  professional 
actors  selected  from  amongst  their  serfs  and 
compulsorily  trained  in  the  dramatic  art. 
There  is  no  need  to  dwell  here  on  the 
terrible  life  of  those  unfortunate  actors 
and  actresses,  whose  enforced  education 
made  them  doubly  conscious  of  the  iniquity 
of  their  position.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
many  of  them  achieved  great  distinction 
on  the  Imperial  stage,  while  still  remaining 
mere  slaves.  The  two  Imperial  theatres 
combined  opera,  ballet,  and  drama,  and 
most  of  the  actors  had  to  practise  an 
extreme  versatility  of  talent  which,  in  spite 
of  its  manifest  drawbacks,  greatly  helped 
them  in  the  acquisition  of  a  complete 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  19 

mastery  of  technique.  So,  notwithstanding 
the  lamentable  poverty  of  its  early  reper- 
toire, the  Russian  stage  was  never  wanting 
in  talented  individuals  whose  names  have 
since  been  ever  famous.  Such  were  Kara- 
tigin  and  Mochalov,  and  particularly  so 
Schepkin,  who  from  the  humility  of 
slavery  worked  himself  up  to  the  high 
position  of  principal  actor  on  the  Moscow 
Imperial  stage.  Three  distinct  methods 
of  acting  may  be  said  to  have  been 
personified  in  those  three  great  actors. 
The  two  elements  of  the  actor's  art  which 
Talma,  the  famous  French  tragedian, 
following  Diderot,  defined  as  intelligence 
and  sensibility,  found  their  ideal  exponents 
respectively  in  Karatigin  and  Mochalov. 
All  that  intellect  could  bring  to  bear  on  the 
creation  of  a  part,  whether  in  illuminating  the 
character,  the  situation,  or  the  environment, 
or  whether  in  enabling  the  actor  to  make 
full  use  of  his  skilful  technique,  formed  the 
striking  distinction  of  the  art  of  Karatigin. 
On  the  other  hand,  temperament  and 
pathos,  combined  with  the  ability  of  com- 


20       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

pletely  merging  his  own  self  in  the  character 
presented,  marked  in  a  very  high  degree 
the  art  of  Mochalov. 

Both  these  actors  concerned  themselves 
mainly  with  the  presentation  of  their  own 
parts.  It  was  the  special  merit  of  Schepkin 
that  in  addition  to  his  exceptional  power 
of  impersonation,  which  harmoniously 
united  both  intelligence  and  sensibility, 
he  always  strove  to  present  not  just  single 
characters,  mutually  detached  and  inde- 
pendent, but  the  play  as  a  \vhole,  a  unity 
in  which  all  parts  bind  and  determine  each 
other.  This  practice  of  the  principle  of 
ensemble,  together  with  his  bitter  opposi- 
tion to  every  kind  of  artificiality  and 
affectation  in  the  manner  of  acting,  set 
its  stamp  on  the  work  of  the  Moscow 
Imperial  Dramatic  Theatre,  the  Small 
Theatre,  as  it  is  generally  called,  which 
during  the  days  of  Schepkin  and  long  after 
his  death,  became  famous  for  the  artistic 
thoroughness  of  its  productions  and  even 
received  the  name  of  '  The  Home  of 
Schepkin." 


HISTORICAL  REVIEW  21 

We  shall  see  later  on  in  what  way 
Schepkin's  traditions  have  regained  their 
vital  significance  on  the  modern  Russian 
stage.  Meanwhile,  let  it  be  pointed  out 
that  by  the  end  of  last  century  these  ideas 
lost  much  of  their  former  hold  over  the 
actors,  and  this  fact,  coupled  with  the 
prevalence  of  the  cheap  problem  and  genre 
play,  caused  mechanical  routine  to  set  in 
and  the  higher  aspects  of  the  dramatic 
art  to  be  disregarded.  Not  that  there 
was  a  complete  lack  of  great  actors.  Mme 
Savin,  Davidov,  and  Varlamov  at  the 
Alexandrivsky  Theatre,  in  Petrograd,  and 
Mme  Fedotov,  Mme  Ermolov,  and  Lensky 
at  the  Moscow  Small  Theatre,  were  actors 
of  unusual  magnitude,  consummate  masters 
of  their  art,  second  to  none  of  their  prede- 
cessors. But  their  striking  individual  gifts 
were  unable  to  save  the  stage  from  the 
backslidings  into  which  it  had  fallen.  The 
"  model  "  Imperial  stage,  which  until  the 
eighties  maintained  in  both  capitals  a 
State  monopoly  of  dramatic  presentation, 
and  was  generally  the  leading  stage  in 


22       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  country  (for  this  reason  I  leave  out- 
side the  scope  of  this  review  the  work  of 
the  provincial  theatres),  now  no  longer 
satisfied  the  more  cultivated  classes  of 
playgoers.  The  general  revival  in  the 
domain  of  art  and  literature  which  marked 
that  period  raised  new  demands  and  created 
new  standards  of  artistic  perfection.  Above 
all,  it  helped  to  produce  that  critical  state 
of  mind  which  could  not  rest  content  with 
what  seemed  to  exist  only  by  dint  of  old- 
established  tradition.  Of  all  the  spheres  of 
artistic  activity  the  theatre  alone  seemed 
lacking  in  life  and  the  true  spirit  of  art. 
A  protest  was  inevitable  in  such  conditions, 
and  it  was  boldly  raised  by  the  two  men 
who  decided  on  launching  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE 

WE  are  told  by  the  chroniclers  of  the 
Moscow  Art  Theatre  how  one  summer  day 
in  1897  Constantine  Sergey evich  Alexeyev 
and  Vladimir  Ivanovich  Nemirovich- 
Danchenko  met  at  a  restaurant  and  for 
eighteen  hours  on  end  discussed  the  position 
and  the  problems  of  the  drama  of  their 
day.  They  had  never  met  before.  One 
was  an  amateur  actor,  the  leader  of  a 
company  of  other  amateurs — members  of 
the  Society  of  Art  and  Literature,  which 
had  distinguished  itself  by  a  number  of 
carefully  staged  productions.  The  other 
was  a  successful  playwright  and  a  man  of 
letters,  whose  devotion  to  the  drama  led 
him  to  the  management  of  a  school  of 
acting.  The  dissatisfaction  with  the  state 
of  the  Russian  stage,  which  they  both 
strongly  felt,  brought  them  together  on 


23 


24       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

that  eventful  day  in  June  of  1897,  and 
resulted  in  the  establishment  of  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre,  which,  whatever  its  faults  or 
merits,  has  certainly  fixed  an  epoch  in  the 
theatre  history  of  Russia.  After  a  few 
more  meetings  and  discussions,  a  definite 
programme  was  worked  out  and  the  zealous 
reformers  set  themselves  enthusiastically  to 
the  task  of  carrying  it  out. 

There  were  innumerable  difficulties  to 
overcome.  The  first  of  them  was  the 
problem  of  finding  the  necessary  capital — 
not  an  easy  thing  in  ordinary  matters 
and  how  much  more  so  where  artistic 
enterprise  is  concerned.  A  number  of 
patrons  were  approached,  and  fortunately 
a  few  were  found  willing  to  support  the 
venture.  The  sum  collected  was  by  no 
means  an  overwhelming  one — something 
over  two  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  in 
all — but  the  enthusiasm  of  the  promoters 
was  of  course  a  much  greater  asset.  Next 
the  company  was  formed.  The  members 
of  the  Society  of  Art  and  Literature  and 
the  students  of  the  Philharmonic  School 


u 

at 

0 


I 
P 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         25 

supplied  the  bulk  of  the  company. 
Amateurs  and  students  !  A  poor  material, 
one  would  think,  to  embark  with  on  the 
ambitious  scheme  of  creating  a  reformed 
theatre  !  And  yet  when  we  look  through 
the  list  of  names  of  the  original  company 
we  cannot  suppress  our  wonder  at  the 
number  of  those,  who,  since  the  "  pre- 
historic "  days  of  1897  have  attained 
popularity  and  even  fame.  Here  we  see 
Alexeyev  himself,  whose  stage-name  of 
Stanislavsky  is  a  household  word  all  over 
the  country.  Then,  Mme  Lilin,  Luzhsky, 
Artem,  and  Sanin,  from  among  his  collabo- 
rators at  the  Society,  and  Mme  Knipper, 
Mme  Savitsky,  Moskvin,  and  Meyerhold 
from  among  the  students  of  Nemirovich- 
Danchenko — all  have  distinguished  them- 
selves as  actors,  or  have  otherwise  left 
traces  of  their  personality  upon  the 
modern  Russian  stage.  The  capital  found, 
and  the  company  formed,  the  next  thing 
was  to  settle  upon  a  theatre.  After  much 
hesitation  and  deliberation  this  problem 
was  also  solved,  a  small  theatre  being  taken 


26       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

to  accommodate  the  new  home  of  artistic 
drama.  It  had  been  previously  used  as  a 
variety-stage,  a  fact  rendered  sufficiently 
obvious  by  the  lingering  odour  of  wine 
which  filled  it. 

A  year  after  the  first  meeting  of  Stanis- 
lavsky and  Nemirovich-Danchenko,  re- 
hearsals were  started  in  the  country,  some 
short  distance  from  Moscow,  where  a  friend 
of  the  company  lent  them  a  shed.  Before, 
however,  dealing  with  the  ideas  which 
guided  the  new  theatre  in  its  work,  a  word 
should  be  said  on  its  organization. 

At  the  head  of  the  company  stood 
Nemirovich-Danchenko  and  Stanislavsky, 
whose  mutual  relations  were  strictly  defined 
from  the  outset.  Nemirovich-Danchenko 
was  given  an  absolute  veto  in  all  questions 
of  a  literary  nature,  such  as,  for  instance, 
the  choice  of  a  play,  the  definition  of  its 
meaning  and  characters,  and  the  general 
treatment  of  its  parts.  Stanislavsky,  in 
his  turn,  was  given  as  absolute  a  veto  in 
all  questions  of  an  artistic  nature,  such  as 
setting,  scenery,  acting,  etc.  This  strict 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE        27 

division  pf  rights  and  duties  was  in  itself 
a  source  of  strength  to  the  theatre,  having 
enabled  the  two  men  to  co-operate  in  the 
common  cause,  now  for  over  seventeen  years, 
without  appreciable  friction  or  discord.  As 
to  the  actors,  they  were  also  bound  by 
certain  rules.  Thus  one  of  the  main 
principles  of  the  company  was  that  no  one 
could  refuse  to  act  a  part  offered  him.  It 
may  be  said  generally  that  this  was  not 
an  ordinary  company  of  actors  and  actresses. 
Their  salaries  were  amazingly  small,  vary- 
ing from  thirty-five  to  fifty  shillings  a  week, 
and  not  a  few  of  them  had  sacrificed  much 
better  positions,  solely  that  they  might  join 
the  new  theatre.  However,  after  four  months 
of  hard  work  and  innumerable  rehearsals, 
the  Moscow  Art  and  Popular  Theatre,  as 
it  was  originally  styled,  opened  its  first 
season  with  Count  Alexis  Tolstoy's  tragedy 
"  Tsar  Fyodor  Ivanovich." 

The  first  production  proved  an  immedi- 
ate success.  The  setting  and  mass-scenes 
impressed  the  public  by  the  richness  of  their 
detail  and  the  faithful  representation  of 


28       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  period.  After  all  the  doubts  and  fears 
with  which  the  whole  company  was  looking 
forward  to  the  first  production,  this  definite 
success  at  once  relieved  the  strain  of  un- 
certainty, and  raised  the  premature  hope 
that  the  theatre  was  firmly  established. 
But  disappointment  came  when  it  was  least 
expected.  A  number  of  new  productions 
which  followed  "  Tsar  Fyodor  "  in  the  usual 
way  of  the  repertoire  system,  and  which 
amongst  other  plays  included  Haupt- 
mann's  "  Sunken  Bell,"  and  "  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,"  failed  to  catch  the  popular 
sympathy,  and  takings  slowly,  but  surely, 
began  to  dwindle  to  such  sums  as  nine  or 
ten  pounds  per  evening.  In  addition,  the 
production  of  a  play  by  Hauptmann  entitled 
"  Hannele,"  on  the  preparation  of  which  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  had  been  spent, 
was  suddenly  forbidden  on  the  ground 
that  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  objected 
to  some  of  its  parts.  It  will  be  easily 
understood  what  a  feeling  of  depression  set 
in  amongst  the  members  of  the  theatre. 
Fortunately,  the  production  of  the  "  Sea- 


29 

gull"  by  Chekhov,  two  months  after  the 
opening  of  the  season,  instantly  changed 
the  whole  situation.  'The  Sea-gull"  was 
a  tremendous  success,  and  with  two  such 
draws  as  this  play  and  "Tsar  Fyodor,"  the 
Moscow  Art  Theatre  began  to  feel  firmer 
ground  under  its  feet. 

The  limits  of  this  chapter  do  not  permit 
of  my  further  quoting  the  facts  illustrating 
the  external  history  of  the  Art  Theatre. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  gradually  it  was  able 
to  overcome  all  the  difficulties  with  which 
it  had  to  contend,  and  to  establish  itself 
as  the  most  popular  theatre  in  Russia. 
It  is  now  housed  in  a  commodious  and 
artistically  decorated  building  and  enjoys 
well-deserved  prosperity.  Its  annual  visits 
to  Petrograd  are  a  great  feature  in  the  life 
of  that  city,  as  the  enthusiasm  with  which 
the  Theatre  is  always  received  there,  amply 
testifies.  The  queues  of  anxious  applicants 
who  two  months  before  the  actual  per- 
formances spend  several  days  and  nights 
in  the  street  in  order  to  get  their  seats, 
provides  sufficient  illustration  of  the 


30       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

interest  taken  in  the  work  of  the  Art 
Theatre.  I  well  remember  a  dismal  and 
misty  night  a  good  many  years  ago,  when, 
with  several  hundreds  of  such  enthusiasts, 
I  waited  outside  the  booking  office  from 
ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  till  two  o'clock 
next  afternoon.  And  I  was  one  of  the  more 
fortunate  ones,  in  that  one  kind  soul  who  had 
already  waited  for  some  twenty-four  hours 
offered  to  share  with  me  the  seats  he  was 
entitled  to  buy,  if  I  agreed  to  take  his  place 
in  the  queue.  But  this  was  my  only  ex- 
perience of  the  kind.  On  other  occasions 
I  chose  the  easier,  though  perhaps  the 
more  parasitic  course,  of  leaving  the  pleasure 
of  the  night  duty  to  my  more  enthusiastic 
friends. 

This  eager  interest  in  the  art  of  the 
theatre  is  in  itself  a  striking  illustration  of 
the  atmosphere  in  which  the  modern  Russian 
theatre  has  to  carry  on  its  work.  It  takes 
time,  of  course,  for  a  new  theatre  to 
create  and  educate  its  own  public,  and 
in  not  a  few  cases  a  new  venture  broke 
down  through  lack  of  resources,  before 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE        31 

the  ideas  put  forward  found  favour  with 
the  public.  But  in  Russia  the  playgoers 
are  certainly  more  receptive  and  more 
alive  to  original  work  in  the  theatre  than 
they  are  in  other  countries,  where  the 
public  taste  has  been  corrupted  by  the 
demoralizing  influence  of  unblushing  com- 
mercialism. In  the  case  of  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre,  the  purer  and  more  artistic 
atmosphere  prevailing  in  Russia  was  one 
of  the  chief  factors  that  assured  its  success 
at  the  time  when,  still  uncertain  of  its  own 
powers,  it  embarked  on  a  new  and  seemingly 
revolutionary  path. 

Let  us  now  examine  more  closely  the 
principles  which  the  Art  Theatre  gradually 
evolved  in  the  course  of  its  development. 

The  essential  feature  of  the  new  theatre 
was  embodied  in  its  peculiar  name — "  The 
Moscow  Art  Theatre."  Why  an  "Art" 
theatre  ?  one  may  ask.  One  does  not 
hear  of  "  art  painting  "  or  "art  music." 
Music  or  painting  can  be  good  or  bad, 
but  "  art  music "  !  The  words  seem 
simply  to  be  redundant.  Yet  there  was 


32       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

sense  in  the  appellation.  A  reference  has 
already  been  made  to  the  conditions  pre- 
vailing on  the  Russian  stage  towards  the 
end  of  last  century.  These  conditions 
betrayed  a  state  of  provincial  crudity, 
and  were  characterized  by  slovenliness 
and  vulgarity  of  detail  pretending  to  be 
realistic,  which,  singularly  enough,  flourished 
side  by  side  with  an  exhibition  of  real 
dramatic  genius  on  the  part  of  a  few  gifted 
actors  of  the  old  school.  The  backslidings 
of  this  kind  were  so  obnoxious  to  the 
taste  of  the  better  educated  and  more 
cultivated  members  of  the  public  that 
drastic  reform  seemed  to  be  urgently 
needed.  The  forms  the  new  dramatic  art 
was  to  assume,  appeared,  for  the  moment, 
perfectly  clear  :  there  was  modern  litera- 
ture free  and  unrestricted  in  its  por- 
trayal of  the  world  that  corresponded  to 
the  intellectual  and  artistic  demands  of 
the  modern  man,  and  the  drama,  which 
was  then  considered  but  a  branch  of  that 
literature,  could  have  no  other  object  save 
that  of  creating  the  same  world  on  the 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         33 

boards  of  the  theatre.  Thus  "  Art "  in 
the  first  place  meant  fidelity  to  the  object 
represented,  or,  in  the  conditions  of  dram- 
atic representation,  a  complete  subordin- 
ation of  the  methods  of  production  to  the 
subject  of  the  play  as  this  would  exist  out- 
side the  stage. 

This  general  method,  however,  admitted 
of  a  variety  of  special  forms.  What 
peculiar  features  constitute  the  idea  of 
reality  ?  The  simplest  and  the  most  natural 
answer  would  be  :  reality  is  what  we  see 
in  real  life,  for  is  it  not  for  this  reason  that 
we  call  it  "  real "  ?  Once  our  material  sur- 
roundings are  faithfully  reproduced,  once 
the  actors  no  longer  act  their  parts  but 
live  in  them,  completely  merged  in  the 
characters  they  represent,  the  stage  is  no 
longer  a  stage  :  it  is  transmuted  into  the 
world  portrayed  in  the  play.  This  tempt- 
ing theory  was  enthusiastically  adopted 
by  the  Art  Theatre,  the  leaders  of  which 
had  already  had  occasion  of  seeing  how  it 
worked  in  practice.  Only  a  few  years 
before  they  launched  their  theatre,  the 


34       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

famous  German  company  of  the  Meiningen 
actors,  under  the  leadership  of  Cronegk, 
had  paid  a  visit  to  Moscow  and  startled 
the  public  by  the  extraordinary  realistic 
effects  it  was  able  to  produce,  both  in  the 
setting  and  the  method  of  acting.  With 
this  example  in  their  mind  the  Art  Theatre 
boldly  proclaimed  the  gospel  of  naturalism 
as  the  only  road  to  salvation — and  proceeded 
eagerly  to  emulate  Cronegk.  A  few  illus- 
trations from  their  productions  of  this 
period  will  enable  us  to  see  to  what  length 
the  new  creed  was  carried. 

We  all  remember  the  time-honoured  three 
cloths  with  painted  ornaments,  pictures  and 
fireplaces,  which  in  the  unsophisticated 
days  of  our  youth  represented  a  house 
which  served  equally  well  to  accommo- 
date the  characters  of  all  periods  and  all 
countries.  From  the  naturalistic  standpoint 
this,  of  course,  was  not  to  be  thought  of, 
and  so  in  the  Art  Theatre  we  were  given  a 
room  broken  up  into  a  number  of  more  or 
less  independent  parts,  with  a  view  of 
other  real  rooms  seen  through  the  doors, 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         35 

and  even  with  realistic  suggestions  ol  the 
stories  above.  Besides  being  nearer  to 
"  real  life "  this  arrangement  afforded 
special  advantages  for  grouping  the  actors 
in  different  places,  and  introducing  a  greater 
variety.  Needless  to  say,  every  setting 
on  the  stage  of  the  Art  Theatre  faithfully 
reproduced  the  architecture,  furniture, 
dress,  and  all  other  features  of  the  period 
concerned.  To  achieve  this  accuracy  the 
Art  Theatre  spared  no  efforts,  as  can  be 
judged  from  the  fact  that  special  missions 
were  sent  to  Rome  when  "  Julius  Caesar  " 
was  produced,  to  Silesia  when  "  The  Carrier 
Henschel "  by  Hauptmann  was  staged,  and 
to  various  parts  of  Russia  whenever  a 
play  possessed  a  semblance  of  local 
"  colour."  For  some  plays  even  local 
dialects  were  specially  studied.  With  this 
fidelity  to  "  nature,"  one  will  hardly  be 
surprised  to  learn  that  rain  on  the  Art 
stage  did  make  the  actors  wet,  that  water- 
falls were  no  sham  imitation,  or  that 
specially  embossed  and  painted  papier- 
mache  lining  produced  a  perfect  illusion  of 


36       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

mud.  In  the  same  way,  walls,  cornices,  and 
doors  were  made  of  their  proper  materials 
or  suitable  substitutes.  And  there  were 
innumerable  tiny  articles  on  the  tables 
and  shelves  to  give  the  impression  of  the 
actual  environment  in  which  people  lived. 

If  we  turn  to  the  method  of  acting  we 
find  a  similar  thing.  All  affectation  in  the 
manner  of  speech  or  acting  was  rigorously 
suppressed.  Principal  characters  were 
deprived  of  all  the  artificial  glamour,  with 
which  the  conventional  stage  surrounds 
them  in  order  to  emphasize  their  im- 
portance. On  the  other  hand,  the 
secondary  parts  and  the  masses  in  which 
the  leading  members  of  the  company  had 
to  appear,  were  raised  to  the  same  level 
as  the  central  characters.  A  complete 
unity  of  the  life  portrayed,  sustained 
throughout  the  play,  and  in  this  way  a 
perfect  ensemble  of  acting,  running  with- 
out a  hitch,  became  the  watchword  of  the 
Art  Theatre. 

It  is  important  not  to  confuse  the  two 
methods  of  acting  just  described.  The 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         37 

naturalistic  method  tended  to  reduce  the 
contrasts  between  what  was  the  principal 
and  the  secondary,  the  climax  and  the 
moments  leading  up  to  it,  to  the  dead 
level  of  the  mean,  and  agreed  ill  with 
many  of  the  plays  produced,  particularly 
of  the  classical  repertoire  opposed  to 
naturalism.  On  the  contrary,  the  method 
of  ensemble  which  the  Art  Theatre  em- 
ployed, revealed  undreamed  of  possibilities 
in  co-ordinated  acting  and  has  since  be- 
come one  of  the  most  valuable  means  in 
representing  (and  I  lay  special  stress  on 
this  word)  the  world  pictured  in  the  play. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE    (continued] 

THE  consistent  faithfulness  in  the  external 
form  which  guided  the  Art  Theatre  during 
the  first  period  of  its  existence,  soon  under- 
went an  important  evolution.  The  change 
was  brought  about  by  the  unusual  char- 
acter and  form  of  the  plays  by  Chekhov, 
which  with  unprecedented  daring  dis- 
carded the  age-long  conventions  of  the 
theatre.  The  merit  for  bringing  Chekhov 
on  to  the  stage  belongs  mainly  to  Nem- 
irovich-Danchenko, who  perceived  in  his 
plays  the  spiritual  significance  and  the 
freedom  of  treatment  that  were  the  avowed 
object  of  the  Art  Theatre.  How  far 
Nemirovich-Danchenko  was  carried  by  his 
enthusiasm  for  Chekhov  will  be  seen  from 
the  fact  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  refusing 
the  prize  which  the  Academy  awarded  him 
for  his  play  "  The  Price  of  Life,"  arguing 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         39 

that  it  should  in  all  justice  have  been  con- 
ferred upon  Chekhov's  "  Sea-gull."  It  was 
also  his  faith  in  Chekhov  that  enabled  him 
to  bring  over  to  his  side  Stanislavsky,  who 
in  the  beginning  was  loath  to  share  his 
friend's  enthusiasm.  There  were,  however, 
other  circumstances  which  spoke  strongly 
against  producing  Chekhov. 

'  The  Sea-gull,"  the  play  selected  by  the 
Art  Theatre,  had  already  been  played  at 
the  Alexandrinsky  Theatre  in  Petrograd, 
with  Vera  Kommissarzhevsky  in  the  lead- 
ing part,  but  the  reception  it  had  there  was 
most  discouraging.  In  fact,  never  before 
in  the  whole  history  of  the  Alexandrinsky 
Theatre  had  its  portly  walls  witnessed  such 
an  outburst  of  indignation.  The  play  was 
booed  and  hissed,  and  the  poor  and  suffering 
author  had  to  flee  to  the  warm  Crimea  to 
find  solace  for  his  outraged  feelings.  But  as 
the  adage  says,  he  who  dares  will  succeed, 
and  the  Art  Theatre  proved  its  mettle  by 
securing  for  "  The  Sea-gull "  the  success  it 
deserved.  With  this  and  the  four  other  plays 
by  Chekhov,  "Uncle  Vania,"  "  Ivanov," 


40       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

'  The  Three  Sisters,"  and  "  The  Cherry 
Orchard,"  which  it  produced  during  its 
lifetime,  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  has  for 
ever  bound  the  name  of  Chekhov  with  its 
own,  and  it  may  with  equal  justice  be  said 
that  Chekhov  as  dramatist  stands  as  much 
by  the  Art  Theatre  as  does  the  Art  Theatre 
by  Chekhov.  Now,  what  are  the  peculiar 
features  of  Chekhov's  plays  ? 

The  characteristic  that  distinguishes 
them  at  the  very  first  glance  is  the  com- 
plete lack  of  dramatic  plot,  or  "  action  "  as 
it  is  called.  They  are  static  in  their  very 
nature,  presenting  nothing  but  mere  scenes 
of  life.  Again,  the  life  itself  as  represented 
in  these  plays,  is  infinitely  removed  from 
the  life  usually  shown  on  the  stage.  It  has 
no  marked  contrasts  of  light  and  shade, 
and  its  human  beings  are  made  up  of 
elements  that  completely  disagree  with  the 
traditional  recipes  of  the  dramatic  craft. 
No  garb  of  the  types  established  in  the 
genre-play,  not  to  mention  melodrama, 
could  possibly  fit  Chekhov's  heroes  with 
their  complex  and  strikingly  individual 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         41 

features.  This  static  nature  of  Chekhov's 
plays,  together  with  the  subtle  drawing 
of  his  characters,  was  further  enhanced  by 
the  special  traits  of  the  class  of  the  Russian 
people  which  he  depicted  in  his  pieces. 
For  various  historical  reasons,  which  I 
need  not  dwell  upon  here,  the  Russian 
"  intelligentia "  of  the  time  of  Chekhov 
presented,  in  its  greatest  part  at  least,  a 
class  of  weak-willed  individuals,  handi- 
capped in  applying  their  gifts  to  the  so- 
lution of  practical  problems  by  the  peculiar 
social  and  political  conditions  prevalent  at 
the  time,  and  for  this  reason  mostly  given 
to  introspection  and  dreaming,  that  helped 
to  relieve  the  soul.  Despair  and  pessimism 
born  of  aimless  life,  and  the  pursuit  of 
dreamy  idealism  in  the  hope  of  finding 
refuge  from  depressing  environment,  con- 
cealed innumerable  elements  of  personal 
tragedy  which,  in  the  irresistible  and  un- 
alterable flow  of  events,  approached  even 
the  ancient  tragedy  of  fate.  It  is  not 
surprising,  therefore,  that  Chekhov  chose 
and  crystallized  dramatic  plots  out  of  this 


42       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

world.  Drama  did  not  develop  there  ;  it 
simply  assumed  gradually  more  distinct 
and  visible  forms  in  the  process  of 
emerging  from  the  chaos  of  the  surround- 
ing atmosphere.  Thus  the  atmosphere, 
itself,  the  very  tone,  became  the  char- 
acteristic feature  of  Chekhov's  plays.  To 
be  faithful  to  Chekhov,  meant  faithfulness 
to  his  atmosphere.  But  how  was  this  to 
be  suggested  by  the  naturalistic  methods 

oo  »/ 

which  the  Art  Theatre  employed  ?  The 
appearance  of  things  as  they  are  is  full  of 
contrasts  and  tends  to  arouse  opposing 
sentiments.  To  Chekhov's  atmosphere, 
however,  unity  of  impression  was  essential, 
and  this  could  be  achieved  only  by  one 
method — the  method  of  selection. 

Now,  selection  may  mean  dropping 
details,  and  then  it  imports  simplification. 
Or  selection  may  also  mean  choosing  a 
definite  idea  or  sentiment  and  dropping  all 
that  is  alien  to  it,  then  it  denotes  style. 
As  is  obvious,  style  is  not  opposed  to 
naturalism  taken  in  its  broad  sense.  I 
do  not  refer  in  this  case  to  historical  style, 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         43 

which  is  a  recognized  province  of  naturalism, 
but  to  style  as  the  result  of  preponder- 
ance given  to  some  peculiar  feature.  This 
can  easily  be  brought  out  even  in  the 
ordinary  naturalistic  world,  and  the  only 
problem  would  then  be  to  ascertain  the 
exact  feature,  the  cue  to  the  style. 

With  regard  to  Chekhov's  plays,  the  Art 
Theatre  found  the  tone  of  their  atmosphere 
in  the  peculiar  key  of  their  dialogue  and  the 
continuity  of  their  action,  which  produce 
an  incessant  flow  of  movements  and  words, 
all  couched  in  subdued  tones  and,  owing 
to  the  lack  of  contrasts,  all  clinging  to  each 
other  in  one  slow  and  continuous  stream. 
The  musical  character  of  Chekhov's  atmo- 
sphere is  suggested  by  the  author  himself, 
who  often  employs  musical  sounds  in  order 
to  produce  the  necessary  impression.  The 
Art  Theatre  only  further  developed  the 
same  feature  when  it  introduced  chirping 
of  crickets,  trampling  of  horses  going  over 
a  bridge  in  the  distance,  and  such  like 
devices,  and  though  it  was  much  ridiculed 
for  these  "  tricks,"  it  seems  to  me  that  all 


44       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

such  sneers  and  opposition  were  merely  due 
to  a  lack  of  understanding  of  the  peculiar 
dramatic  form  fostered  by  the  Art  Theatre. 
To  the  same  group  of  productions  in  which 
the  lyrical  atmosphere  of  the  "  interieur  " 
formed  the  chief  tone  of  the  play,  belong  a 
few  stagings  of  Turgenev's  plays.  Particu- 
larly remarkable  was  "  A  Month  in  the 
Country,"  in  which  the  musical  effect  of 
the  dialogue  was  further  enhanced  by  the 
exquisite  scenery  painted  by  Dobuzhinsky. 
The  two  principles  of  production  de- 
scribed above  marked  the  first  period  of 
the  Art  Theatre.  Simple  copying  of  nature 
(faithfulness  in  the  external  form)  and 
selective  copying  of  nature  (faithfulness  in 
revealing  the  predominant  feature,  the  style) 
were  both  applied  to  a  number  of  produc- 
tions of  Ibsen  which,  naturalistic  though 
they  were,  prepared  the  ground  for  a  new 
departure  in  the  methods  of  the  Art  Theatre. 
It  was  the  time  when  symbolism  in  literature 
gradually  established  itself  in  the  popular 
favour  and  numerous  attempts  were  made 
to  do  away  with  realistic  staging.  The 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         45 

Art  Theatre  also  yielded  to  the  general 
tendency,  and  in  a  number  of  productions 
tried  to  discover  new  forms.  Thus  in 
Knut  Hamsun's  "  At  the  Gates  of  the 
Kingdom "  an  experiment  was  tried  of 
reducing  the  scenery  and  the  accessories 
down  to  the  barest  minimum,  after  the 
method  of  the  "  conventional  staging " 
so-called.  In  Andreyev's  "  Life  of  Man  " 
simplification  was  served  in  a  somewhat 
naturalistic  garb.  Whilst  the  volatile  sym- 
bolism of  Maeterlinck's  "Blue  Bird"  was 
presented  even  without  much  simplification, 
the  method  adopted  being  that  described 
above  as  selective  copying  of  nature,  or  style : 
that  is  to  say,  the  poetic  world  pictured  by 
Tyltyl  and  Mytyl  was  realized  on  the  stage 
in  all  its  entirety  as  seen  by  a  child,  but,  of 
course,  through  the  eyes  of  a  grown-up. 

This  symbolistic  reaction,  however,  was 
but  a  passing  craze  inevitable  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  Art  Theatre,  but  little  char- 
acteristic of  its  achievement.  I  shall  deal 
at  a  greater  length  with  the  problem  of 
conventional  and  symbolical  staging  when 


46       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

I  describe  the  work  of  Meyerhold.  For 
the  moment  I  shall  restrict  myself  only  to 
the  following  observation.  Notwithstand- 
ing all  its  vacillations  during  this  period 
the  Art  Theatre  remained  ever  faithful  to 
that  principle  of  "  faithfulness  "  which  it 
proclaimed  at  the  beginning  of  its  career. 
From  the  casual  external,  through  the 
specific  external,  "  faithfulness  "  passed  to 
the  casual  spiritual.  Whatever  symbolical 
plays  this  theatre  produced,  it  always 
attempted  to  present  them  as  mere  psycho- 
logical problems.  Psychological  interpre- 
tation became  the  object  which  the  Art 
Theatre  set  itself  to  attain. 

The  evolution  of  "  faithfulness  "  did  not 
stop  at  this.  Once  the  inner,  the  spiritual 
world  became  the  centre  of  interest,  it 
required  only  another  step  to  make  one 
look  for  a  body  with  which  to  clothe  the 
soul.  Psychological  features,  crystallized 
into  characters,  now  began  to  be  regarded 
as  the  central  points  from  which  reality 
issued,  and  which  shed  their  light  on  the 
matter  enveloping  them.  Thus,  the  fourth 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE        47 

stage,  the  stage  of  "  artistic  realism,"  so 
called,  was  reached,  marking  the  com- 
pletion of  the  circle  of  "  faithfulness."  Its 
outward  expression  it  found  in  realistic 
simplification  on  the  basis  of  character, 
which  had  the  effect  of  plastic  moulding 
of  individual  character  on  the  background 
of  neutral  and  also  simplified  environment. 
It  is  in  this  sense  that  the  canons  of  scenic 
art  left  by  Schepkin  may  be  said  to  have 
been  brought  to  life  again  by  Stanislavsky 
and  his  collaborators. 

Having  traced  the  evolution  of  the 
Moscow  Art  Theatre,  it  is  opportune  now  to 
point  out  what  it  actually  stands  for,  what 
its  significance  is  with  regard  to  the  general 
problem  of  the  theatre.  There  will  be  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  the  basic  principle 
which  lay  at  the  foundation  of  all  the 
experiments  of  the  Art  Theatre,  tacitly 
admitted  as  the  natural  and  the  only 
artistic  form  of  the  theatre.  This  principle 
was  representation.  The  object  of  the 
theatre  was  understood  not  to  present  a 
play  through  the  medium  of  the  stage,  but 


48       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

to  represent  it  as  an  independent  entity 
existing  side  by  side  with  the  observing 
audience.  The  subject  of  the  play  was 
considered  as  a.  picture  of  some  definite 
world  perfectly  complete  in  itself  and 
needing  only  a  faithful  reproduction  to 
become  a  living  world  on  the  stage.  Of 
the  twro  elements  of  the  theatre,  the  stage 
and  the  audience,  the  second  operated 
merely  as  some  superfluous  attachment 
making  itself  felt  only  through  the  necessity 
of  providing  for  it  the  huge  window  of  the 
stage  through  which  it  could  get  a  glimpse 
of  the  world  enacted.  This  admission  of 
a  barrier  dividing  the  theatre  into  two 
independent  parts,  was  the  actual  factor 
which  determined  the  whole  course  of  the 
Art  Theatre's  activity.  If  illusionism  in 
the  way  of  representation  was  to  be  carried 
to  its  furthest  limits,  if,  in  addition,  the 
illusory  world  thus  created  was  to  exist 
entirely  by  its  own  means,  detached  from, 
and  independent  of,  the  spectator,  I  can  see 
no  reason  why  the  Art  Theatre  should  be 
reproached,  as  it  has  often  been,  for  such 


1 

I 


51 


06 

w 


3       3 

-a 
a    o 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         49 

alleged  tricks  as  the  so-called  "  fourth 
wall,"  i.e.  a  row  of  furniture  placed  along 
the  footlights,  or  its  crickets,  frogs,  and 
"  such  like  baggage,"  which  were  intended 
only  to  make  living  nature  speak  for  itself. 
To  refute  the  case  of  the  Moscow  Art 
Theatre  it  is  necessary  to  prove  that 
representation  is  not  the  object  of  the 
theatre,  or  that  it  must  not  be  objective, 
or,  lastly,  that  it  must  not  be  naturalistic- 
ally-objective. 

Without  going  into  the  argument  at  this 
instant,  I  will  only  point  out  that  the 
subsequent  development  of  the  Russian 
theatre,  following  in  the  direction  opposite 
to  the  methods  of  the  Art  Theatre,  passed 
through  all  the  indicated  grades  of  reaction, 
taking  them  in  the  reversed  order  :  first, 
objectivism  in  the  symbolical  garment,  then 
subjectivism,  and,  finally,  presentation,  as 
a  method  entirely  opposed  to  illusionism 
of  any  kind. 

There  are  a  few  minor  points  which  are 
invariably  brought  out  when  the  work  of 
the  Art  Theatre  is  discussed.  I  shall  deal 


50       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

with  them  briefly  before  I  pass  to  other 
Russian  theatres.  The  first  is  the  relation 
between  the  stage-director  and  the  actor. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Art  Theatre 
laid  special  stress  on  ensemble-acting,  which 
demanded  a  centralization  of  all  the  direct- 
ing powers  in  the  hands  of  a  single  man  : 
the  stage-director.  To  what  use  these 
powers  were  put  by  Stanislavsky  was  made 
manifest  by  the  extraordinary  unity  of 
acting  in  his  theatre.  Yet  complaints  were 
often  made  that  this  system  of  stage- 
dictatorship  suppressed  the  actor's  indi- 
viduality and  lowered  the  standard  of 
acting.  Now,  an  unrestricted  individuality, 
guided  mainly  by  its  own  ideas  and  impulses, 
may  be  a  great  asset  in  other  theatres,  but 
it  certainly  has  no  place  in  a  theatre  of 
objective  representation,  where  it  would  be 
opposed  to  its  fundamental  principle.  As 
to  the  assertion  that  individual  direction 
lowers  the  standard  of  acting,  this  is  easily 
answered  by  the  remarkable  fact  that,  in 
spite  of  its  dictatorship,  the  Art  Theatre 
has  given  Russia  some  of  her  finest  actors, 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE        51 

as  for  instance  Kachalov  and  Moskvin,  who, 
before  they  joined  the  Art  Theatre,  had 
been  merely  young  and  obscure  provincial 
actors. 

The  other  problem  raised  by  the  Art 
Theatre  must  be  familiar  to  the  English 
public.  The  system  of  long-run  plays  is 
practically  unknown  in  Russia.  Its  only 
indication  may  be  found,  however  strange 
it  may  appear,  in  the  practice  of  the  Art 
Theatre.  The  extraordinary  thoroughness 
of  its  productions,  involving  expenditure 
of  money  on  a  most  lavish  scale  and  necessi- 
tating innumerable  rehearsals  (some  plays 
were  rehearsed  for  over  a  year  before  they 
were  produced) ,  had  the  unexpected  effect  of 
reducing  its  repertoire  to  a  few  more  or  less 
popular  plays.  It  is  obvious,  that,  were 
the  Art  Theatre's  methods  to  spread  to 
other  theatres,  long-run  plays  would  become 
an  inevitable  consequence.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  Russia,  particularly  in  the  pro- 
vinces, the  theatre-going  public  is  too 
small  to  draw  upon  for  a  long-run  produc- 
tion. Thus  we  see  in  the  practical  condi- 


52       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

tions  of  theatrical  work  a  serious  obstacle 
raised  against  the  Art  Theatre's  methods. 

I  have  reserved  to  the  end  of  my  remarks 
on  the  Art  Theatre  Mr  Craig's  interesting 
appearance  on  its  stage  as  the  producer  of 
"  Hamlet."  The  production  had  a  some- 
what mixed  reception  in  Russia,  though 
one  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that 
the  conditions  which  obtained  on  the  Art 
stage  were  not  the  most  favourable  for  a 
successful  realization  of  Mr  Craig's  ideas. 
There  are,  doubtless,  points  of  similarity 
between  the  theories  of  Mr  Craig  and  those 
of  Stanislavsky.  One  is  that  both  of  them 
profess  the  cult  of  the  stage-director,  Mr 
Craig  going  even  as  far  as  to  proclaim  the 
puppet  a  superior  actor  to  the  man.  There 
are,  however,  other  points  which  divide  the 
two.  In  contrast  to  Stanislavsky's  partial- 
ity to  naturalism  Mr  Craig  affects  a  liking 
for  a  kind  of  super-naturalism,  which  is  not 
always  even  symbolical.  In  fact,  in  Mr 
Craig's  opposition  to  naturalism,  it  is  the 
voice  of  a  mystic  and  philosopher,  it  seems 
to  me,  rather  than  that  of  an  artist  that 


THE  MOSCOW  ART  THEATRE         53 

we  hear.  Again,  we  know  what  Stanis- 
lavsky's guiding  principle  was — representa- 
tion, whereas  Mr  Craig's  position  on  this 
point  has  never  been  made  quite  clear, 
his  thought  always  vacillating  between  the 
desire  of  representing  a  higher,  super- 
natural world,  for  which  he  designs  his 
cyclopic  scenic  effects,  and  the  desire  of 
presenting  his  message  to  the  audience  on 
the  Elizabethan  apron  stage.  It  is  not 
surprising,  therefore,  that  Stanislavsky's 
theatre,  coached  in  naturalistic  traditions, 
failed  to  do  full  justice  to  Mr  Craig's  idea 
of  staging  "  Hamlet  "  in  the  terms  of  a 
supernatural  conflict  between  the  powers 
of  good  and  evil.  Nor  were  his  ideas  of 
screen-scenery  sufficiently  worked  out  in 
detail,  nor  tested  in  practice,  to  admit  of 
their  adequate  realization  on  the  Art  stage. 
Taken  on  the  whole,  the  production  of 
"  Hamlet  "  should  be  viewed  as  an  ex- 
tremely interesting  experiment,  inconclusive, 
however,  owing  to  the  peculiar  conditions 
in  which  it  was  carried  out. 


CHAPTER  IV 

KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  AND   MEYERHOLD 

THE  tentative  efforts  of  the  Moscow  Art 
Theatre  to  discover  new  forms  beyond  the 
naturalistic,  provide  a  favourable  ground 
for  a  clearer  understanding  of  the  work 
accomplished  by  its  principal  opponent, 
the  theatre  of  Vera  Kommissarzhevsky  in 
Petrograd.  A  few  words  about  the  great 
actress  whose  name  the  theatre  bore  should 
serve  as  an  introduction  to  our  analysis. 
If  you  ask  the  modern  Russian  for  the 
name  of  an  actress  who  impressed  her 
image  most  on  the  present  generation,  he 
will  unhesitatingly  answer :  Vera  Kom- 
missarzhevsky. The  sympathy  which  this 
actress  was  able  to  evoke  in  the  public, 
often  verged  on  the  border  of  a  cult.  Her 
power  of  impersonation  was  great.  But 
infinitely  greater  still  was  the  appeal  of 
her  own  personality.  What  charm  it  had, 


KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  &  MEYERHOLD    55 

it  is  difficult  to  define.  She  was  not  pretty, 
and  yet  she  was  fascinating.  But,  if  any- 
thing, it  was  her  voice  that  charmed  most. 
Deep  and  ringing,  it  seemed  to  throb  with 
some  mystic  fervour,  to  carry  some  pro- 
phetic message  of  the  other  world.  Was 
there  a  man  or  a  woman  who  did  not  fall 
a  victim  to  her  enchantment  ?  For  my 
own  part,  I  can  recollect  no  other  impression 
of  the  stage  which  could  rival  in  force  the 
image  of  "  Hilda  "  which  Kommissarzhevsky 
created  in  "  The  Master  Builder "  by 
Ibsen.  The  theatrical  career  of  this  actress 
was,  unfortunately,  too  brief.  She  began  it 
on  the  stage  of  the  Alexandrinsky  Theatre 
in  Petrograd,  where  she  immediately  be- 
came the  favourite  of  the  public.  Then 
followed  the  years  of  eager  attempts  to 
find  new  forms,  when  she  ventured  to 
start  a  theatre  of  her  own,  and  invited 
Meyerhold  to  be  her  stage-director.  The 
venture  was  not  a  complete  success  in  the 
material  sense,  and  Kommissarzhevsky  went 
on  a  tour  in  the  country,  which  brought 
her  eventually  to  Tashkend,  in  Central 


56       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

Asia.  There,  while  buying  a  carpet  in  the 
market,  she  contracted  an  infectious  dis- 
ease and  shortly  afterwards  died,  still  in 
the  full  blossom  of  her  powers. 

Kommissarzhevsky's  association  with 
Meyerhold  can  easily  be  understood.  The 
mystic  leanings  of  her  temperament  found 
little  scope  for  self-expression  in  the 
dramatic  forms  which  prevailed  on  the 
Russian  stage  at  the  time.  Meyerhold's 
ideas  of  a  new  theatre  seemed  to  answer 
her  own  aspirations,  and  thus  the  union 
was  effected. 

I  had  occasion  to  mention  Meyerhold  as 
one  of  the  students  of  Nemirovich-Dan- 
chenko's school  who  joined  the  Art  Theatre 
company  on  its  formation.  After  some 
three  years  of  work  with  the  company, 
Meyerhold  left  it,  dissatisfied  with  the 
methods  followed  by  Stanislavsky,  and 
went  on  a  tour  in  the  provinces,  endeavour- 
ing to  discover  new  methods  of  producing 
plays  of  the  modern  repertoire.  In  1902 
we  find  him  again  at  the  Art  Theatre 
as  the  head  of  its  experimental  branch, 


KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  &  MEYERHOLD    57 

which  was  known  as  "  The  Studio  Theatre." 
A  year's  work,  however,  in  that  theatrical 
laboratory  brought  Meyerhold  to  the  con- 
clusion that  naturalistic  methods  were  in- 
artistic in  themselves  and  utterly  unsuitable 
for  the  production  of  symbolical  or  more 
or  less  abstract  plays.  A  new  and  more 
independent  stage  became  necessary  for  the 
application  of  the  principle  thus  established, 
and  severing  connection  with  Stanislavsky, 
Meyerhold  joined  the  theatre  of  Vera  Kom- 
missarzhevsky. 

What  were  the  new  ideas  proclaimed  by 
Meyerhold  ?  In  the  literature  on  the 
theatre  they  have  since  been  defined  as 
"  stylisation  "  and  '  conventionalism." 
Though  appropriate  in  themselves,  these 
terms,  in  my  opinion,  fail  to  indicate  the 
fundamental  difference  which  distinguished 
the  new  movement  from  the  Moscow  Art 
Theatre.  This,  I  consider,  was  not  so 
much  an  opposition  between  realism  and 
conventionalism  as  that  between  the  ob- 
jective method  of  representation  and  the 
subjective  one.  The  Art  Theatre  placed 


58       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  production 
on  the  stage,  Meyerhold  transferred  it  to 
the  audience.  It  would  have  made  scarcely 
an  atom  of  difference  to  the  adequacy  and 
completeness  of  the  Art  Theatre's  perform- 
ance, if  the  audience  had  been  entirely 
removed.  On  the  other  hand,  the  very 
life  would  have  been  taken  out  of  Meyer- 
hold's  productions  if  they  had  been  sub- 
jected to  the  same  experiment.  Having, 
so  to  speak,  taken  sides  with  the  audience, 
Meyerhold  was  simply  bound  by  the  very 
nature  of  his  position  to  reject  the  natural- 
istic method.  It  was  no  longer  a  question 
of  picking  and  choosing  whatever  one  liked 
out  of  a  complete  reproduction  of  the 
world  on  the  stage,  but  rather  of  evoking  a 
fuller  vision  of  the  world  by  showing  a 
glimpse  of  it  on  the  boards.  To  this 
subjective  vision  held  by  the  audience,  the 
stage  production  had  to  appeal,  and  with 
this  vision  it  was  indissolubly  bound  up. 
And  in  this  way  the  ideas  of  "  convention- 
alism" and  "  stylisation  "  came  into  being. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  misconception 


KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  &  MEYERHOLD    59 

prevalent  with  regard  to  the  inner 
significance  of  these  terms.  They  were 
coined  to  denote  something  departing  from 
the  methods  of  the  realistic  school,  which 
were  supposed  to  give  the  only  adequate 
representation  of  real  life.  But,  as  must 
have  been  made  clear  by  the  previous 
remarks,  all  forms  of  the  theatre,  as  well 
as  of  art  in  general,  derive  their  significance 
from  the  attitude  taken  up  by  the  spectator. 
So  far  as  "  stylisation  "  and  "  conventional- 
ism "  are  concerned  they  are  not  more 
conventional,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word,  than  realism  itself.  The  Russian 
name  for  "  conventionalism "  is  "  con- 
ditionalism,"  and  in  this  form  it  at  once 
reveals  its  true  nature.  This  may  be 
expressed  in  a  few  words :  "  certain 
premises  admitted,  corresponding  conclu- 
sions must  needs  be  drawn."  If  one  agrees 
to  assign  certain  powers  to  various  cards, 
or  chess  figures,  or  mathematical  symbols, 
or  government  officials,  the  combinations 
which  may  arise  in  the  course  of  play,  or 
calculation,  or  political  strife,  would  be 


60       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

neither  arbitrary,  nor  unreal — they  would 
be  merely  "  conditional."  In  the  same 
way,  if  one  attempts  to  view  the  world 
from  some  peculiar  standpoint  according 
to  the  sentiment  or  attitude  of  mind  that 
dominates  one  at  the  moment,  or  is  one's 
individual  peculiarity  or  national  char- 
acteristic, the  vision  of  the  world  one 
obtains  is  as  real  and  inevitable  in  its 
logic  as,  say,  is  the  indisputable  fact  that 
the  sky  looks  dark  after  the  sun  has  set. 
In  other  words,  "  conventionalism  "  means 
an  admission  of  legitimacy  of  various 
other  standpoints  besides  the  objectively- 
realistic,  which  latter  is  also  a  convention 
only  supposed  to  be  a  natural  one.  This 
admission  of  convention  is  further  qualified 
in  "  stylisation,"  which  subjects  all  the  sen- 
timents or  ideas,  embodied  in  a  work  of  art, 
to  the  control  of  one  guiding  sentiment  or 
principle  chosen.  This  method  accepted, 
the  success  of  a  theatrical  production  will 
depend  on  the  sensitiveness  evinced  by  the 
producer  in  discovering  the  leading  senti- 
ment of  the  play  represented,  and  by  his 


KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  &  MEYERHOLD    61 

cleverness  in  finding  the  forms  that  would 
appropriately  express  that  sentiment.  The 
task  is  by  no  means  an  easy  one,  as  has 
unfortunately  too  often  been  proved  by 
many  who  have  ventured  to  tackle  it 
before  they  had  acquired  the  necessary 
qualifications.  Meyerhold  stands  out  in 
this  respect  as  the  producer  who  showed 
the  utmost  sensibility  in  revealing  the 
spirit  of  the  work  performed. 

Let  us  now  trace  the  course  followed  by 
Meyerhold  in  order  that  we  may  see  what 
new  forms  of  dramatic  art  were  evolved 
by  him,  and  how  they  actually  originated. 

The  convention  adopted  by  Meyerhold 
during  the  first  period  of  his  work  was  drawn 
mainly  from  the  character  of  Maeterlinck's 
dramas  which  at  that  time  particularly 
engaged  his  attention.  The  object  of 
Maeterlinck  in  his  plays  is  to  reveal  the 
inner  mysteries  of  life  by  making  the 
audience  experience  them  as  actual  facts. 
His  ambition  is  to  break  down  the  barrier 
between  the  stage  and  the  audience  and 
cause  the  performance  to  become  a  kind  of 


62       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

religious  service  in  which  the  individuality 
of  the  spectator  merges  into  some  sublime 
vision  of  the  inner  world.  The  solution  of 
this  problem  offered  by  Meyerhold  does 
great  credit  to  his  sense  of  theatrical  form. 
He  staged  Maeterlinck's  dramas  on  one 
plane,  i.e.  he  reduced  the  depth  of  the  stage 
to  a  narrow  band  close  to  the  footlights  and 
placed  the  actors  against  flat  decorative 
scenery,  aiming  thereby  to  dematerialize 
the  stage  and  to  merge  the  action  of  the 
play  in  the  sway  of  emotions  felt  by  the 
audience. 

Though  the  use  of  flat  setting  was  by 
no  means  a  new  discovery,  its  application 
by  Meyerhold  is  remarkable  for  the  under- 
standing of  the  psychological  nature  of  flat 
surfaces  which  it  so  strikingly  revealed. 
Nothing  is  so  capable  of  destroying  the 
opposition  between  the  spectator  and  the 
object  observed  as  the  perception  of  a  flat 
surface.  It  was  this  peculiar  fact  that 
helped  Meyerhold  in  uniting  the  audience 
and  the  stage,  and  in  creating  a  genuine 
mystic  atmosphere.  In  addition  to  this 


KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  &  MEYERHOLD    63 

visual  effect,  other  devices  were  used  to  bring 
out  the  main  sentiment  of  Maeterlinck's 
plays.  Thus,  the  latent  dialogue  so-called, 
i.e.  the  inner  attitudes  accompanying  the 
external  action,  was  made  manifest  by 
plastic  movements  of  the  performers  and 
by  the  cold  and  metallic  diction  denuded 
of  the  ordinary  emotional  intonation. 

But  whilst  endeavouring  to  realize  on 
the  stage  the  "  style  "  of  Maeterlinck's  plays, 
Meyerhold  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that 
in  some  respects  the  convention  adopted 
by  him  clashed  with  another  which  he  yet 
dimly  conceived,  namely,  the  convention 
of  the  stage.  Placing  the  bodies  of  the 
actors,  which  were  in  relief,  against  flat 
decorative  screens,  seemed  to  exemplify 
one  of  the  incongruities  thus  produced, 
and  Meyerhold  was  soon  led  to  recognize 
that  the  method  of  setting  in  low  relief 
with  decorative  painting  of  scenery  is 
opposed  to  the  very  spirit  of  the  stage  as 
we  have  it.  Further,  he  began  to  see 
that  the  pictorial  appeal  of  the  decorative 
scenery  had  an  adverse  effect  on  the  unity 


64       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

of  impression,  distracting  the  attention  of 
the  audience  from  the  acting.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  position  of  the  actor  now 
acquired  in  his  eyes  an  importance  which 
it  had  not  possessed  before.  The  actor 
came  to  be  regarded  now  as  the  central 
element  of  the  play,  an  element  which 
was  to  occupy  the  very  foremost  place 
in  the  performance.  The  figure  of  the 
actor  had  to  stand  out  like  a  statue, 
focussing  upon  itself  the  whole  stress  and 
power  of  expression.  This  idea,  labelled 
with  the  name  of  "  statuesqueness,"  was 
hailed  as  a  successor  to  the  method  of  low 
relief,  bringing  in  its  train  a  series  of  further 
interesting  developments.  One  of  them 
loomed  particularly  large  in  the  dramatic 
criticisms  of  the  time,  though  neither 
Meyerhold  nor  any  of  his  followers  actually 
attempted  its  realization. 

It  was  formulated  by  the  poet  Fyodor 
Sologub  as  "  the  theatre  of  a  single  will," 
and  by  another  poet,  Viacheslav  Ivanov, 
as  "  the  theatre  of  congregate  action." 
The  idea  lying  at  the  root  of  this  movement 


KOMMISSARZHEVSKY  &  MEYERHOLD    65 

was  simple  enough.  The  theatre,  it  was 
argued,  is  capable  of  revealing  the  inner 
mysteries  of  life  and  of  arousing  religious 
sentiment.  These,  however,  can  never 
attain  to  their  highest  intensity  so  long 
as  the  audience  remains  merely  a  passive 
observer.  The  example  of  the  early  Greek 
theatre  and  the  mediaeval  mystery-plays 
provides  the  form  in  which  the  audience 
not  merely  listens  to  what  is  proceeding  on 
the  stage,  but  itself  takes  an  active  part 
in  the  performance.  The  theatre,  united 
into  one  whole,  thus  becomes  a  temple, 
with  the  stage  as  a  sacrificial  altar,  serv 
ing  as  a  medium  of  religious  purification. 
A  parallel  is  instantly  suggested  by  the 
drama  of  Maeterlinck.  There  is,  however, 
this  difference  between  the  two  :  whereas 
in  the  case  of  Maeterlinck  the  audience 
is  made  to  merge  and  abandon  its  indi- 
viduality in  the  world  represented  on  the 
boards,  the  Russian  theorists  endeavoured 
to  bring  the  stage  over  to  the  audience. 

The   connection  between   these  theories 
and  Meyerhold's  ideas  of  statuesque  staging 


66       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

followed  from  the  assumption  that  the 
actor — a  real  human  being  freed  from  the 
bondage  of  decorative  scenery — shared  with 
the  audience  the  task  of  realizing  the  sub- 
ject of  the  play,  the  one  in  action,  the  other 
in  imagination.  It  required  only  a  further 
step  to  make  the  actor  come  down  from 
the  stage  and  draw  the  audience  into  the 
ecstasy  of  religious  performance.  It  will, 
perhaps,  be  fitting  in  this  connection  just 
to  remark  that  similar  developments,  though 
somewhat  different  in  their  origin,  were 
carried  out  in  Germany,  where  Dr  Georg 
Fuchs,  of  the  Munich  theatre,  worked  out 
the  theory  of  statuesque  staging,  and  Max 
Reinhardt  made  some  interesting  experi- 
ments in  reviving  the  forms  of  the  Greek 
theatre.  Whether  these  actually  influenced 
Meyerhold  and  the  Russian  stage,  I  am 
not  prepared  here  to  say. 


CHAPTER  V 

MEYERHOLD  (continued) 

THE  evolution  of  Meyerhold's  ideas  did  not 
stop  at  "  statuesqueness."     While  still  in 
the  process  of  working  out  a  new  form  of  the 
theatre  out  of  the  struggle  of  conflicting 
"  styles,"  Meyerhold  had  to  sever  his  ties 
with  the  theatre  of  Kommissarzhevsky,  and 
after  a  lapse  of   two  years,  he  transferred 
his  experimental  work  to  the  stage  of  the 
Imperial  Alexandrinsky  Theatre.     At  the 
time  the  fact  caused  much  surprise  in  the 
public  mind.     It  was  difficult  to  reconcile 
oneself  to  the  sight  of  the  recognized  leader 
of  the  advanced  movement  appearing  on 
the  stage  that  was  the  very  embodiment 
of. tradition  and  conservative  spirit.     And 
yet  the  change  was  only  a  natural   con- 
sequence of  the  ideas   formulated  before. 
As  will  be  remembered,  the  actor  came  to 
be  regarded  by   Meyerhold   as    the  main 


67 


68       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

vehicle  of  dramatic  expression.  This 
necessarily  involved  a  recognition  of  tech- 
nique, of  school.  And  it  was  the  continuity 
of  tradition  and  the  mastery  of  technique 
that  distinguished  the  old  and  brilliant 
school  of  actors  of  the  Alexandrinsky 
Theatre.  No  compunction  could  have, 
therefore,  been  felt  by  Meyerhold  in 
transferring  his  activity  to  the  new  sur- 
roundings, more  particularly  as  he  was 
given  a  free  hand  in  carrying  out  his 
experiments. 

His  ideas  by  that  time  reached  a  new 
stage  of  development.  The  immense  im- 
portance of  the  actor  having  been  un- 
reservedly admitted,  the  next  step  was  to 
recognize  "  acting,"  i.e.  frank  and  con- 
sistent exhibition  of  the  actor's  dexterity 
as  the  only  artistic  form  of  playing. 
This  at  once  transformed  the  whole  aspect 
of  the  dramatic  performance.  Instead  of 
attempting  to  give  a  representation  (ob- 
jective or  subjective)  of  the  world  set  out 
in  the  play,  an  agent-intermediary  in  the 
shape  of  the  actor  was  introduced  between 


MEYERHOLD  69 

the  play  and  the  audience,  to  present 
the  piece  through  his  natural  prism  of 
'  theatricality."  The  new  standpoint  im- 
mediately brought  to  the  forefront  a  number 
of  the  fundamental  problems  of  the  theatre. 
One  of  the  most  important  amongst  them 
was  the  problem  of  proscenium.  Out  of 
the  general  problem  of  the  relationship 
between  the  stage  and  the  audience  which, 
in  the  productions  of  Maeterlinck's  plays, 
seemed  to  find  its  solution  in  a  practical 
destruction  of  the  stage  as  an  independent 
entity,  and  which  in  the  succeeding  short 
period  suggested  a  tendency  towards  a 
transformation  of  the  auditorium  into  an 
orchestra,  as  this  was  known  in  the  Greek 
theatre — out  of  this  general  problem  the 
pioblem  of  the  proscenium  came  to  the 
front  as  its  specific  theatrical  expression. 
No  difficulty  was  present  in  solving  it  on  the 
basis  of  the  new  principle  of  presentation. 
If  the  stage  and  the  audience  were  to  be 
united,  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  the  only 
medium  through  which  this  union  could 
be  brought  about  was  the  actor,  and  the 


70       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

only  place    wherein    it  could   be   effected 
was  the  proscenium. 

There  was,  however,  this  difference  be- 
tween the  union  by  means  of  the  actor 
and  the  proscenium,  and  that  attempted 
in  Meyerhold's  earlier  productions.  Then, 
the  object  was  to  transform  the  theatre 
into  a  temple  or  a  convent-cell.  Now, 
special  stress  was  laid  on  the  peculiar 
features  of  the  theatre  as  the  theatre. 
Illusionism,  both  of  the  subjective  and  the 
objective  variety,  was  to  be  mercilessly 
swept  out  from  the  precincts  of  the  stage, 
which  was  to  be  reinstated  in  its  ancient 
rights,  as  the  place  where  undisguised 
"  theatricality  "  reigns  free  and  unashamed. 

But  it  will  be  asked  whether  this  strange 
"  theatricality,"  which  seems  to  have  been 
so  utterly  discredited  by  absurd  conven- 
tional gestures  and  poses,  and  false  affec- 
tation of  speaking,  is  really  capable  of 
infusing  any  fresh  blood  in  the  theatre. 
The  answer  is  that  there  is  theatricality 
and  theatricality.  As  understood  by 
Meyerhold  it  stands,  in  the  first  place, 


MEYERHOLD  71 

for  "  spectacle "  or  "  show,"  i.e.  a  pre- 
sentation of  a  play  which  is  always  to 
remain  merely  a  play  on  the  boards  of 
the  stage.  In  the  second  place,  theatri- 
cality stands  for  the  two  methods  of  acting 
which  follow  from  the  nature  of  show  : 
the  mask  and  the  grotesque. 

Once  the  actor  is  put  in  the  position  of 
a  magician,  at  the  pointing  of  whose  wand 
things  are  suddenly  transformed  into 
wondrous  beings,  he  cannot  but  use  his 
power  to  its  utmost  limits  in  endeavouring, 
by  every  movement  of  his  body,  every 
change  in  the  intonation  of  his  voice, 
every  expression  of  his  face,  to  convey  to 
the  spectator  the  innumerable  aspects  of 
humanity  and  the  world  at  large,  which 
are  hidden  in  the  familiar  types  and 
expressions.  The  mask  is,  therefore,  a 
schematized  and  abstract  feature,  fixed 
by  the  actor  in  some  visual  image.  It  may 
be  stereotyped  or  more  fluid  ;  it  may  also 
be  made  up  of  some  material  as  in  the 
Greek  theatre,  or  it  may  be  expressed  in 
the  acting  itself. 


72       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

As  to  the  grotesque,  the  use  of  this 
method  is  confined  to  a  somewhat  narrower 
sphere.  It  resolves  itself  into  a  perpetual 
play  of  contrasts  following  upon  each  other. 
Sublimity  and  triviality,  beauty  and  ugli- 
ness, joy  and  sorrow,  courage  and  cowardice, 
are  all  interwoven  in  a  fantastic  pattern 
as  were  the  flowers  and  human  figures 
on  the  walls  of  Roman  grottoes.  The 
mediaeval  stalls  and  the  Italian  Commedia 
dell'  arte  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeeth 
centuries  are  the  best  known  examples  of  the 
theatres  in  which  the  principle  of  the 
"  show,"  together  with  its  derivative  forms 
of  the  mask  and  the  grotesque,  was  most 
completely  realized.  It  is  not  surprising  for 
this  reason,  that  the  watchword  of  the  new 
movement  has  become :  "  Back  to  the 
Booth  and  the  Commedia  dell'  arte." 

Meyerhold  and  his  followers  go  even  as 
far  as  to  accept  unreservedly  the  method 
of  improvisation  practised  by  the  Com- 
media dell'  arte.  In  this  Italian  theatre, 
the  play  was  reduced  to  a  mere  scenario 
in  which  only  the  general  outlines  of  the 


MEYERHOLD  73 

plot  were  indicated,  whilst  the  dialogue 
was  improvised  by  the  actors  themselves. 
No  doubt  there  are  great  advantages  in 
this  method,  if  the  actors  prove  themselves 
capable  of  the  task.  But  there  is  sufficient 
evidence  in  the  history  of  the  theatre  to 
show  that  in  the  majority  of  cases  the  actors, 
when  left  entirely  to  themselves,  never  rose 
above  the  commonplace  and  hackneyed, 
and  those  who  did,  like  Shakespeare  and 
Moliere,  by  this  very  fact  joined  themselves 
to  the  ranks  of  literary  men.  Besides, 
even  in  the  Commedia  dell'  arte  real  im- 
provisation was  frequently  replaced  by 
incessant  and  entirely  inappropriate  re- 
petition of  the  turns  which  found  particular 
favour.  The  fully  legitimate  desire  of 
clearing  the  stage  of  all  literary  influences 
has  led  Meyerhold  to  hardly  justifiable 
extremes,  which,  I  am  sure,  practical  ex- 
perience will  compel  him,  if  it  has  not 
done  so  already,  to  admit. 

Certain  qualifications  must  also  be  made 
with  regard  to  the  use  of  the  mask  and 
the  grotesque  in  the  Commedia  dell'  arte. 


74       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

The  mask  in  this  instance  did  serve  as  an 
elementary  image,  fixed  and  immovable, 
or  as  a  certain  formula  of  various  types 
and  aspects  of  the  humanity  of  those  days.1 
But  the  wide  horizon  of  transcendental 
realities,  which  pleases  us  most  in  the 
masks,  could  have  hardly  existed  for  the 
Italian  audiences  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. It  is  scarcely  to  be  imagined  that 
the  theatre-goers  of  that  period  could  have 
been  alive  to  the  multiplicity  of  masks  in 
one  individual,  their  fascinating  succession 
one  after  another,  the  doubles  they  serve  to 
produce,  and  the  abstract,  flattening  effect 
they  have  on  the  very  images  they  em- 
body, as  in  the  poetic  "  Little  Booth," 
by  Alexander  Block,  where  Pierrot  has  a 
double  Harlequin  and  dreams  of  Columbine 
as  a  "  paste-board  "  maiden  of  his  heart. 
Also  the  grotesque  and  the  monstrous 
were  taken  at  that  time  in  a  much  simpler 

1  It  is  only  in  this  abstract  sense  that  one  may  speak 
of  the  use  of  the  mask  in  the  Commedia  dell'  arte.  In  the 
material  sense  of  the  word  the  mask  was  used  in  the  con- 
temporary "masked  comedy"  of  A.  Beolco  (Ruzzante), 
which,  however,  had  only  a  slight  influence  on  the 
Italian  theatre. 


MEYERHOLD  75 

spirit  than  Meyerhold  would  have  us  take 
them  now.  In  this  case,  as  in  that  of 
the  mask,  the  higher  irony,  the  "  trans- 
cendental buffoonery,"  to  use  the  words 
of  Schlegel,  are,  of  course,  only  the  legacy 
bequeathed  to  us  by  the  German  roman- 
ticists of  the  early  nineteenth  century. 
Our  appreciation  of  these  theatrical  forms 
depends,  not  on  their  past,  but  on  the 
demands  of  our  own  spirit,  which  they 
are  capable  of  satisfying. 

As  to  the  actual  productions  by  Meyer- 
hold,  in  which  the  above  principles  have 
been  put  to  a  test,  I  have  to  restrict  myself 
to  a  few  brief  remarks.  Two  landmarks 
may  be  noted  in  his  development  along 
the  lines  described.  Strange  as  it  may 
appear,  the  first  refers  to  the  early  period 
when  Meyerhold  had  just  joined  the  theatre 
of  Kommissarzhevsky.  The  play  produced 
was  Block's  "  Little  Booth,"  already  men- 
tioned, in  which  a  pathetic  story  is 
related  of  ^Pierrot's  languorous  love  for 
the  beautiful,  ever  feminine  Columbine, 
who  now  assumes  the  image  of  death,  and 


76       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

now  of  a  paste-board  maiden.  After  the 
manner  of  the  romanticists,  an  author 
is  introduced  into  the  action,  who  inter- 
polates puerile  remarks,  whilst  the  whole 
play  is  enfolded  in  an  atmosphere  at  once 
mystic  and  grotesque.  It  happened  thus 
that,  by  a  happy  coincidence,  the  style  of 
this  play,  which  was  the  main  concern  with 
Meyerhold  at  that  time,  embodied  that  very 
essence  of  theatricality  which  later  became 
for  him  the  style  of  the  stage,  as  it  were. 
The  other  landmark  was  Moliere's  "  Don 
Juan,"  produced  at  the  Alexandrinsky 
Theatre  in  1910.  Here  the  principles  of 
the  show  were  frankly  and  consciously 
admitted,  the  play  being  set  up  as  a  brilliant 
spectacle  displayed  before  the  audience. 
Full  lights  were  maintained  in  the  hall, 
and  an  additional  reminder  of  the  fact 
that  this  was  merely  a  staged  spectacle, 
was  provided  by  the  presence  on  the  stage 
of  little  Arabs  who,  in  the  fashion  of  the 
time  of  le  Roi  Soleil,  drew  curtains  and 
waited  on  the  actors. 


CHAPTER  VI 

EVEREINOV,    FOKIN,    AND    BENOIS 

I  NOW  pass  to  another  representative  of 
the  same  school  as  Meyerhold,  whose  name 
has  already  been  brought  before  the 
eyes  of  the  English  public.  Evereinov 
succeeded  Meyerhold  at  the  Theatre  of 
Kommissarzhevsky  after  the  attempts  at 
conventional  staging,  having  described  a 
complete  cycle  of  development,  reached  the 
point  from  which  one  road  led  to  theatri- 
cality and  the  other  to  further  forms  of 
illusionism.  Playing  on  the  imagination 
of  the  audience  was  the  form  of  repre- 
sentation adopted  by  Meyerhold,  and  was 
followed  by  Evereinov  in  his  theory  of 
"  monodrama." 

If  the  object  in  producing  a  play  was 
to  convince  the  spectator  that  what  was 
happening  on  the  stage  was  only  a  part  of 
himself  and  his  real  life,  there  seemed  to 

77 


78       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

be  no  reason  why  the  spectator  should  not 
be  convinced  that  it  is  he  himself  who  lives 
and  acts  in  the  world  represented.  The 
only  question  was  how  to  produce  this 
effect,  and  here  Everei'nov's  conception  of 
"  monodrama  "  was  advanced  as  its  possible 
solution.  The  usual  form  of  the  drama, 
argued  Evereinov,  in  which  each  char- 
acter lives  as  he  actually  is  and  appears 
to  himself,  compels  the  spectator  to  live 
simultaneously  through  the  experience  of 
all  the  characters  presented.  Both  the 
hero  and  the  villain,  with  all  their  con- 
flicting emotions,  have  to  be  followed 
sympathetically  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
As  a  consequence,  the  attention  of  the 
spectator  is  continually  drawn  in  opposite 
directions,  and  he  naturally  feels  himself 
an  outsider.  What  if  the  whole  plot  was 
staged  as  viewed  by  the  principal  character, 
the  other  characters  and  the  environment 
changing  in  their  appearance  with  the 
change  of  his  sentiment  and  attitude  ? 
Would  not  this  introduce  a  unity  into  the 
play  and  help  to  bridge  the  stage  and 


EVEREINOV,  FOKIN,  AND  BENOIS      79 

the  auditorium  ?  The  protagonist,  who,  to 
make  things  clearer,  might  be  called  "  Ego," 
would  conduct  the  spectator  through  all 
his  vicissitudes  as  his  invisible  "  alter  ego," 
his  double,  and  the  illusion  of  reality  would 
therefore  be  raised  to  the  highest  pitch. 

Such  was  Evereinov's  theory,  and  within 
the  narrow  limits  of  subjective  illusionism, 
it  doubtless  presented  an  original  develop- 
ment. There  is,  however,  this  fatal  con- 
tradiction concealed  in  it,  that  whilst 
invoking  the  spectator's  power  of  imagin- 
ation, in  which  sense  it  is  subjective,  it  is 
compelled  to  base  itself  mainly  on  the 
realistic  scenic  effects,  such  as  are  pio- 
vided  by  various  lighting  and  musical  de- 
vices, which  illustrate  the  changing  moods 
and  standpoints  of  the  protagonist.  This 
carries  illusionism  even  further  back  than 
the  chirping  crickets,  croaking  frogs, 
curtains  blown  by  the  wind,  and  other 
mechanical  tricks  of  the  Moscow  Art 
Theatre.  The  whole  thing  seems  to  be  re- 
duced to  the  level  of  a  popular  children's 
game,  in  which  one  child,  standing  in  front, 


8o       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

makes  a  speech,  whilst  another  behind, 
with  arms  slipped  under  the  arms  of  the 
first,  illustrates  the  speech  by  appropriate 
gestures.  The  game  is  very  amusing  and, 
I  am  afraid,  Everemov's  monodrama,  if 
realized  on  the  stage,  would  have  a  similar 
effect,  instead  of  creating  a  complete  illusion 
of  reality  as  desired  by  the  producer.1 

It  is  difficult  to  establish  a  link  be- 
tween Everemov's  monodrama  and  his  later 
theories  of  "  theatricality."  The  guiding 
principle,  apparently,  was  the  idea  of 
spectacular  display  which  in  monodrama 
revealed  itself  in  the  prominence  given  to 
purely  visual  effects,  and  which  later  was 
generalized  into  the  dictum  :  "  The  word 
plays  a  subordinate  part  in  the  theatre. 

Curiously  enough,  some  of  the  "  monodramatic " 
effects  advocated  by  Evereinov,  have  for  long  been 
stock-in-trade  of  the  kinema,  the  audiences  of  which,  for 
example,  are  treated  to  the  illusion  of  a  moving  motor 
car  at  a  "  stand-still,"  while  stationary  houses  appear  to 
be  flying  swiftly  into  distance.  However,  as  far  as  my 
own  experience  goes,  I  have  never,  in  such  circum- 
stances, been  under  the  impression  that  it  was  I  who  was 
seated  in  the  car  and  the  hero  of  all  the  extraordinary 
adventures  which  kinema  cars  are  in  the  habit  of  under- 
going. 


EVEREINOV,  FOKIN,  AND  BENOIS    81 

We  hear  more  by  eyes  than  by  ears.  Ergo 
— literature  must  not  dominate  the  stage 
but  must  play  second-fiddle  to  the  inde- 
pendent art  of  the  theatre."  Evereinov's 
"  theatricality,"  however,  is  not  quite 
equivalent  to  the  art  of  the  theatre.  It 
embraces  a  much  wider  range  of  human 
activities,  originating,  actually,  in  life  itself 
and  ascending  thence  to  its  highest  ex- 
pression on  the  stage.  By  theatricality 
he  understands  the  power  of  seeming  trans- 
formation which  he  believes  to  be  deeply 
rooted  in  the  human  character.  To  appear 
what  one  is  not,  to  transform  life  into  a 
continuous  performance,  is  the  ideal  which 
should  be  set  up  by  humanity  and  which, 
in  his  opinion,  is  being  trampled  upon  by 
the  prosaic,  common,  and  distasteful  people 
of  our  day. 

It  hardly  enters  into  the  scope  of  this 
essay  to  criticize  this  far-reaching  theory. 
As  set  forth  in  Evereinov's  writings  it  is 
just  a  specimen  of  drawing-room  philosophy, 
with  the  familiar  clap-trap  about  the 
commonness  of  things  common,  which  is 


82       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

rather  too  stale  in  the  year.  And  in  a 
country  like  this,  with  its  superb  speci- 
mens of  theatricality,  such  as  the  Salva- 
tion Army  and  the  pompous  proceedings  of 
various  official  bodies,  to  quote  only  one 
or  two  familiar  examples,  it  would  have 
neither  the  interest  of  novelty,  nor  the 
attraction  of  an  original  form.  Moreover, 
it  is  plain  that  Evere'inov  preaches  his 
theatricality  with  all  the  deadly  earnest  of 
a  real  zealot,  and  thus  inadvertently  gives 
all  the  show  away.  How  much  more  in- 
spiring it  is  to  see  the  proverbial  Roman 
augurs  meet  and  pass  by  with  a  smile  on 
their  lips ! 

Of  Evereinov's  productions  it  mast  be 
said  that  his  method  of  monodrama  has 
only  partially  been  tested  on  the  stage. 
But  his  work  in  the  Old-Time  and  Merry 
theatres,  in  which  he  endeavoured  to  re- 
vive the  features,  as  well  as  the  plays,  of 
the  Mediaeval  stalls,  presented  considerable 
interest  both  in  the  historic  and  the  theat- 
rical sense.  Together  with  Meyerhold's 
productions  in  the  "  House  of  Intermedia," 


EVEREINOV,  FOKIN,  AND  BENOIS    83 

and  the  activity  of  other  cabaret  and 
burlesque  stages  in  Petrograd  and  Moscow, 
such  as  "  The  Distorted  Mirror  "  and  "  The 
Bat,"  it  marks  the  latest  phase  of  the 
theatrical  development  in  Russia  along 
the  lines  of  the  comical  grotesque. 

I  have  yet  to  make  a  passing  reference 
to  the  effect  which  the  ideas,  evolved  on  the 
dramatic  stage,  produced  on  the  Russian 
ballet  and  opera.  The  performances  of  the 
Russian  dancers  in  London  were  not  an 
isolated  phenomenon  free  from  connection 
with  the  rest  of  the  theatrical  life  of  the 
country.  On  the  contrary,  they  were  only 
a  ramification  of  the  tree  planted  and 
nurtured  on  the  dramatic  stage.  The  new 
spirit  in  the  ballet  introduced  by  Fokin 
was  an  echo  of  the  principles  of  conven- 
tional staging  which  Meyerhold  had  earlier 
proclaimed  and  developed  in  the  theatre 
of  Kommissarzhevsky.  With  naturalism  in 
scenery  and  setting  finally  discarded,  the 
ballet  productions  followed  the  drama  in 
adopting  "  style "  as  a  form  of  artistic 
convention  determining  both  dancing  and 


84       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

scenery.  What  distinguished  Fokin's  appli- 
cation of  this  method  from  that  pursued 
by  Meyerhold,  was  due  mainly  to  the 
difference  in  the  temperament  of  the  two 
men.  Meyerhold  in  his  productions  in- 
clined towards  the  mystical  and  kindred 
experiences.  The  disposition  of  Fokin,  on 
the  other  hand,  showed  more  in  the  direction 
of  the  elementary  emotions  of  love  and 
passion,  only  refracted  through  a  prism  of 
exotic  exuberance  and  sensuality. 

This  also  explains  the  prominence  given 
in  the  ballet  to  purely  pictorial  effects, 
in  scenery,  as  well  as  in  dancing,  which 
helped  to  saturate  the  atmosphere  with 
exotic  vapours,  and  generally  stimulated 
the  appeal  to  the  senses,  so  essential  in 
such  a  plastic  art  as  dancing.  As  a  re- 
action against,  this  infatuation  with  the 
pictorial  style,  a  movement  has  lately 
developed  advocating  a  return  to  the  classi- 
cal dancing  which  relies  more  on  the  con- 
ventional stage  symbolism  of  movement 
and  the  professional  virtuosity  of  the  per- 
former than  on  the  emotional  expressive- 


EVEREINOV,  FOKIN,  AND  BENOIS    85 

ness  and  style  of  the  setting.  It  hardly 
requires  to  be  pointed  out  that  in  this  case, 
as  before,  we  find  a  strict  analogy  to  the 
theories  of  theatricality  now  advocated  on 
the  dramatic  stage. 

Less  notable  and  still  less  independent 
have  been  the  stage  developments  in  the 
opera,  although  there  have  been  a  number 
of  productions  in  which  interesting  attempts 
have  been  made  to  depart  from  the  routine 
forms  of  setting  and  ensemble.  The  most 
conspicuous  example  of  originality  of 
staging  in  the  opera  has  been  provided  by 
the  production  of  "  Le  Coq  d'Or,"  the  opera 
by  Rimsky  Korsakov,  which  by  the  in- 
genuity of  Alexander  Benois,  an  eminent 
painter  and  historian  of  art,  was  trans- 
formed into  a  fascinating  ballet. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  this  pro- 
duction singing  was  divorced  from  the 
actual  performers  and  confined  to  an  im- 
movable chorus  placed  on  two  flights  of 
steps  on  both  sides  of  the  stage.  Acting, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  entrusted  to  dancers, 
who  illustrated,  in  plastic  forms,  the  words 


86       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

and  music  of  their  singing  counterparts. 
Many  have  wondered  at  the  meaning  of  this 
division.  Was  it  used  merely  for  the  sake 
of  greater  efficiency  in  singing  and  acting  ? 
I  doubt  it.  There  were  certain  features 
in  the  production  which  make  it  clear  that 
the  main  idea  was  to  give  a  grotesque 
spectacle.  Notwithstanding  Benois's  often- 
proclaimed  opposition  to  every  kind  of 
insincerity  on  the  stage,  theatricality  is 
the  spirit  which  pervaded  his  creation. 
There  was  no  attempt  on  his  part  to  dis- 
guise the  fact  that  he  used  an  artificial 
device  with  the  special  object  of  enhancing 
the  scenic  effect  of  the  action.  Clearly, 
the  expedient  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
demands  of  realism  or  the  style  of  the  plot. 
It  was  purely  and  frankly  theatrical.  It  is 
another  matter  how  far  it  was  successful. 

Allowing  for  the  restrictions  imposed 
on  the  producer  by  the  form  of  opera,  I 
think  "  Le  Coq  d'Or  "  fell  short  of  the  high 
mark  set  up  by  the  producer.  No  doubt 
he  was  impelled  by  a  laudable  desire  of 
reviving  the  method  used  in  the  Roman 


EVEREINOV,  FOKIN,  AND  BENOIS    87 

pantomimes,  but  this  fact  could  not  save 
him  from  landing  in  grave  artistic  con- 
tradictions. Thus  we  saw  the  chorus, 
openly  placed  on  the  stage,  with  the 
evident  object  of  acting  as  chorus,  lose 
its  independent  position  as  soon  as  the 
audience  learnt  to  overlook  the  discrepancy, 
and  to  regard  the  dancers  as  the  actual 
singers.  If  this  was  the  desired  effect  why 
was  the  chorus  brought  out  on  the  stage 
at  all  ?  Would  it  not  have  been  much 
more  consistent  to  hide  it  out  of  sight  of 
the  audience,  as  was  done  in  the  case  of 
the  orchestra,  so  that  the  singing  should 
appear  as  a  mere  accompaniment  to  the 
movements  of  the  dancers,  or  even  as 
coming  direct  from  the  latter  ?  But  no, 
the  chorus  was  on  the  stage,  clearly  be- 
fore our  eyes,  and  yet  unable  to  vindicate 
itself  as  a  necessary  element  in  the  opera. 
It  seems  to  me  that  in  this  undefined  and 
purposeless  use  of  chorus  the  producer 
approached  a  problem  of  paramount  im- 
portance. In  the  Greek  theatre,  chorus, 
so  long  as  it  was  used,  served  as  a  link 


88       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

between  the  stage  and  the  audience.  It 
disappeared  in  the  later  centuries  when 
the  stage  became  entirely  detached  from 
the  spectator,  but  during  the  time  of  its 
existence  in  the  Greek  theatre  it  fulfilled 
the  definite  function  of  a  connecting  link. 
This  function  lies  in  the  nature  of  chorus, 
and  it  is  a  matter  of  regret  that  Benois  did 
not  venture  to  face  the  problem  therein 
involved,  instead  of  which  he  preferred  to  go 
only  halfway,  satisfied  with  the  extent  of 
originality  already  achieved  and  with  the  in- 
disputable quaintness  and  poignancy  of  its 
effect  enhanced,  as  this  was,  by  the  conscious 
use  of  grotesque  scenery  and  acting. 

There  is  a  wide  field  in  Russia  for  progress 
in  operatic  productions.  Almost  every  big 
Russian  city  has  an  opera  house,  whilst 
Petrograd  has  three  and  Moscow  two. 
An  enterprise  which  deserves  mention  in 
this  connection  is  the  Theatre  of  Musical 
Drama  in  Petrograd,  distinguished  for  the 
extreme  thoroughness  of  its  productions  and, 
as  far  as  I  can  judge,  following  along  the 
lines  explored  by  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CONCLUSION 

WITH  this,  my  task  of  indicating  the  main 
lines  of  development  in  the  modern  Russian 
stage  is  drawing  to  a  close.  It  remains 
only  to  state  afresh  the  guiding  principles 
which  have  revealed  themselves  in  the 
course  of  this  evolution  and  to  try  and  show 
their  bearing  on  the  general  problem  of 
the  theatre. 

It  is  commonly  believed  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  have  such  a  thing  as  the  Ideal 
Theatre.  All  the  theatrical  reformers  will 
tell  you  that  the  improvements  they  in- 
troduce are  a  step  towards  its  realization. 
But  is  this  contention  borne  out  by  the 
history  of  the  theatre,  which,  presumably, 
should  have  indicated  the  lines  along  which 
this  progress  has  been  taking  place  ?  On 
the  contrary,  instead  of  one  line  of  develop- 
ment, leading  to  a  definite  goal,  we  find 


go       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

at  least  two  main  lines  and  quite  a  number 
of  secondary  ones  which  all  go  in  different 
and  even  opposed  directions.  I  will  admit 
that  this  is  characteristic  not  only  of  the 
theatre,  since  in  every  art  one  can  find 
opposing  objects  and  tendencies.  But  in 
my  opinion  it  only  proves  that  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  a  standard  form  of  art, 
and  therefore  my  contention  that  theat- 
rical evolution  has  revealed  no  unifying 
principle  remains  unimpaired. 

However,  let  the  facts  speak  for  them- 
selves. Take  the  Greek  theatre.  It  origi- 
nated in  actual  life  (whether  in  religious 
ceremonies,  or  something  else,  is  of  no 
importance  in  this  connection).  The  actor 
and  the  spectator  were  fused  in  the  same 
person.  But  gradually  a  division  set  in. 
The  spectator  now  only  looked  on  and  the 
actor  acted.  Only  the  chorus  in  the 
orchestra,  from  which  the  actor  sprang 
up,  remained  a  spectator  and  an  actor  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  thus  still  calling  to 
mind  the  time  when  acting  had  not  yet  been 
divorced  from  life.  But  the  process  of 


CONCLUSION  91 

division  went  on.  The  chorus  disappeared 
and  the  audience  was  left  face  to  face 
with  the  actor  on  the  stage.  Up  to  this 
point  the  evolution,  therefore,  was — from 
acting  as  a  moment  in  real  life,  to  acting  as 
a  spectacle.  Both  principles  involved  had 
their  realization  in  the  theatre,  and  to  say 
that  one  stood  for  the  true  theatre  and 
the  other  for  a  false  one,  is  simply  beside 
the  point.  But  the  evolution  did  not  stop 
at  this.  In  the  Greek  theatre  the  stage 
remained  a  stage  and  the  actors  merely 
presented  their  plays  to  the  audience.  The 
Romans,  however,  made  a  further  step  in 
dividing  the  spectator  from  the  actor. 
The  stage  building  was  enlarged,  and  for 
the  first  time  an  attempt  was  made  to 
enclose  the  play  within  the  borders  of 
the  stage.  In  other  words,  the  play  was 
represented.  Now,  who  can  say  that 
representation  was  a  higher  form  of  the 
theatre  than  presentation  ?  They  both 
corresponded  to  the  relationship  established 
between  the  actor  and  the  spectator, 
and  could  anybody  show  the  reason  why 


92       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

it  should  be  standardized  ?  Then,  again, 
we  see  the  principle  of  presentation  carried 
through  the  Middle  Ages  down  to  our  own 
time,  first  in  the  Italian,  then  in  the 
French  and  English  theatres,  varied  by  the 
presentation  of  the  mask,  as  in  Italy,  or 
of  the  character,  as  in  England.  Next,  in 
our  own  age,  we  see  representation  revived 
and  passing  through  various  stages. 

Here  it  would  be  more  convenient,  for 
the  purposes  of  illustration,  to  take  the 
modern  Russian  theatre. 

In  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  representation 
was  understood  as  objective  illusionism 
sought  first  in  the  external  form,  then  in 
the  unity  of  the  tone  and  atmosphere, 
then  in  psychological  interpretation,  and 
lastly  in  the  moulding  of  characters,  that, 
remaining  realistic,  was  couched  in  broad 
and  monumental  forms.  Throughout  all 
these  experiments  the  stage  was  regarded 
as  completely  detached  from  the  audience, 
and  the  world  represented  was  to  exist 
by  its  own  means. 

Another    form    of    representation    was 


CONCLUSION  93 

suggested  by  Evere'inov  with  his  mono- 
drama.  I  called  it  subjective  illusionism 
because  the  spectator  was  desired  to  feel 
himself  as  if  he  were  acting  on  the  stage. 
But  the  stage  itself  remained  self-complete 
and  needed  no  assistance  from  the  spec- 
tator in  creating  the  illusion. 

Then  we  come  to  Meyerhold.  He  found 
the  traditional  theatre  developing  along 
the  line :  theatre-spectacle,  representation, 
objectivism.  He  started  with  an  opposi- 
tion to  objectivism  in  representation, 
replacing  it  by  subjective  representation 
(style,  conventionalism,  etc.).  By  so 
doing  he  invoked  the  participation  of  the 
spectator  and  undermined  the  theatre  as 
a  spectacle.  We  saw  the  consequence  of 
this  in  Meyerhold's  attempts  to  realize 
a  theatre  of  action,  that  is,  a  theatre 
in  which  all  are  actors.  The  first  period 
of  Meyerhold's  work  can  therefore  be  de- 
scribed as  aiming  at  representation,  more  in 
imagination  than  in  reality,  of  a  certain 
vision  of  the  world,  in  which  representation 
the  audience  takes  active  part  and  thus 


94       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

tends  to  form  a  theatre  of  action.  The 
obstacles  met  with  in  carrying  out  this 
idea  led  to  a  reversion  of  the  object  itself. 
Since  it  was  found  difficult  to  transform 
a  performance  into  an  episode  of  real  life, 
the  idea  presented  itself  to  the  producer 
to  try  the  opposite  effect,  i.e.  to  transform 
an  episode  of  real  life  into  a  performance. 
"  Here  in  the  theatre,"  it  was  said,  "  we 
are  spectators  and  actors.  Let  us  admit 
this  fact  and  make  the  best  of  it."  So 
theatricality  was  proclaimed  and  with  it 
the  theatre  once  again  returned  to  the 
principle  of  presentation. 

To  sum  up,  then,  it  may  be  asked 
which  of  these  principles  provides  the 
means  whereby  the  ideal  theatre  could 
be  realized  ?  My  answer  is  :  none,  or  all. 
It  all  depends  upon  what  we  look  for  in 
the  theatre.  Demands  vary  with  the  time, 
and  the  only  safe  criterion  rests  with  the 
demands  of  the  modern  man,  the  attitude 
of  our  own  time.  As  between  the  theatre 
of  action  and  the  theatre-spectacle  the 
choice  which  the  modern  man  would  make 


CONCLUSION  95 

is  pretty  certain.  We  have  grown  too 
critical  and  too  self  -  conscious  to  sur- 
render ourselves  willingly  to  the  minis- 
trations of  actors  and  authors,  no  matter 
how  profound  or  how  clever  they  may 
be.  Our  way  of  living  may  be  good 
or  bad,  but  we  are  not  likely  to  ask  the 
actor  that  he  should  fashion  it  for  our- 
selves. This  privilege  has  been  granted 
only  to  politicians,  perhaps,  on  the  principle  : 
"  Leave  our  souls  in  peace  and  devil  take 
the  hindmost."  This,  of  course,  would 
not  apply  to  the  members  of  some  order 
of  "The  Blue  Moon,"  or  "The  Square 
Circle,"  or  the  initiates  of  some  esoteric 
brotherhood  of  "  Smiling  Osiris,"  who  would 
joyfully  acquiesce  in  all  the  tasks  that  the 
theatrical  ingenuity  of  their  sublime  masters 
might  impose  on  them.  They  would  simply 
be  asking  for  it.  But  I  deal  with  ordinary 
mortals,  and  these,  I  believe,  would  most 
vigorously  resent  any  attempt  on  the  part 
of  the  theatre  at  meddling  with  their  lives. 
Though  by  no  means  all  of  us  are  great 
thinkers,  we  form  in  the  theatre  a  com- 


96       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

munity  of  sages  looking  at,  and  listening 
to,  what  the  wise  men  of  the  impersonat- 
ing profession  are  able  to  show  us.  I  am 
sure  that,  for  our  part,  most  of  us  could 
show  those  impersonators  many  a  mystery 
and  trick  in  our  own  humble  vocations. 

If,  then,  the  theatre-spectacle  is  what 
the  modern  man  wants,  in  which  form 
should  it  be  given  him  ?  Representation 
or  presentation  ?  This,  some  people  believe, 
is  the  question.  No  question  at  all.  If  a 
thing  is  represented  well,  it  gives  me  pleasure 
to  see  what  it  is  and  how  it  was  reproduced 
on  the  stage.  If  it  is  presented  well,  I  am 
pleased  none  the  less.  The  whole  point  is 
in  the  right  use  of  the  medium,  which  is 
tantamount  to  saying  that  the  form  must 
be  adequate  to  the  subject,  and  both  must 
carry  conviction.  Naturalism  in  the  external 
form  will  not  appeal  to  me  because  my  in- 
tellect is  sufficiently  trained  to  see  that  it  is 
no  more  than  ankle-deep.  But  give  me  the 
feeling  of  a  reality  existing  independently 
of,  and  detached  from,  me  as  a  spectator, 
and  I  may  contemplate  it  with  all  the 


CONCLUSION  97 

enthusiasm  which  it  is  worth.  Or  again, 
if  you  attempt  to  represent  a  thing  that 
does  not  admit  of  complete  materialization 
on  the  stage,  I  am  prepared  to  lend  you 
the  aid  of  my  imagination  and  fly  with 
you  to  the  far-away  realms  wherein  symbolic 
realities  or  mere  Platonic  ideas  abide.  Be 
only  careful  to  do  your  part  really  well 
since  to  drop  down  from  the  dizzy  altitude 
of  a  couple  of  feet  is  a  most  distressing 
spectacle. 

Lastly,  you  want  to  be  in  a  theatre,  as 
at  home — to  show  how  exceedingly  clever 
you  are  at  your  craft,  and  how  wonderful 
is  the  world  hidden  in  every  line  of  your 
body,  every  intonation  of  your  voice,  every 
"  mask  "  you  create — and  I  am  with  you 
as  wholeheartedly  now  as  I  was  before. 
Even  more  so,  as  a  multiplicity  of  worlds, 
reduced  to  their  elementary  forms,  is 
more  appealing  and  more  instructive  to 
me  than  the  complete  unity  of  single 
worlds,  which  engaged  your  mind  in  the 
work  of  representation. 

And  there  it  is.     Let  the  theatre  bring 


98       THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

out  all  the  possibilities  of  art  latent  in  it, 
and  the  future  will  not  begrudge  them 
recognition.  They  all  tend  to  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  Ideal  Theatre — each  in  its  own 
way,  pursuing  its  own  ideal.1 

1  The  following  Russian  books  were  consulted  in  the 
composition  of  the  above  essay : 

B.  VARNEKE.     Istoria  Russkavo  Teatra  (two  parts). 
MOSKOVSKY    KHUDOZBESTVENNY    TEATR.       Izdanie 
zhurnala,  "  Rampa  i  Zhizn." 
V.  MEYERHOLD.     O  Teatre. 
N.  EVREINOV.     Teatr,  kak  takovoy. 

,,  Vvedenie  v  monodramu. 

„  Teatr  dlia  sebia  (Part  I.). 


VIAGHESLAV  IVANOV 


VIAGHESLAV  IVANOV 

A    POET-PHILOSOPHER    OF    MODERN    RUSSIA 

To  the  outside  observer  Russia  always 
seems  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  the 
Sphinx — she  presents  a  baffling,  problematic 
combination  of  elements,  simple  and  familiar 
in  themselves,  yet  always  resulting  in 
strange  and  unintelligible  effects.  The 
uninitiated  European  could  read  but  one 
answer  to  the  riddle.  "  Russia,"  he  has 
said  with  an  air  of  finality,  as  though 
disposing  of  the  problem  to  his  complete 
satisfaction,  "  Russia  is  properly  a  country 
of  the  East — the  remote,  intangible  East, 
enshrouded  in  impenetrable  veils  of  obscur- 
ity and  mystery,  standing  always  for  some- 
thing dim,  inscrutable,  and  wholly  incom- 
prehensible, for  certain  peculiar  modes  of 
thought  that  defy  translation  into  the 
clear,  rational  forms  of  the  Western 
intellect." 

101 


102     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

And  not  only  the  European  but  the 
Russian  himself,  in  his  recurring  moods 
of  intense  self-realization,  has  been  too 
ready  to  insist  on  the  essential  difference, 
the  definite  line  of  demarcation,  which 
separates  the  Russian  spirit  from  that  of 
the  Western  world. 

Yet  the  problem  of  the  Russian  soul 
as  stated  in  these  terms  betrays,  on  the 
one  hand,  a  lack  of  memory  and,  on  the 
other,  a  faulty  logic.  Two  important 
facts  seem  to  be  little  appreciated,  even 
when  they  are  not  completely  lost  sight 
of.  The  modern  European,  a  product 
of  the  commercial  and  industrial  develop- 
ments of  the  last  few  centuries,  is  too 
preoccupied  with  the  Present  to  pay  much 
attention  to  the  Past.  If  he  cared  to 
probe  somewhat  deeper  than  usual  into 
the  spiritual  worlds  of  ancient  Greece  and 
Egypt,  upon  whose  labours  our  modern 
civilization  so  firmly  rests,  he  would, 
perhaps,  be  as  much  startled  by  the 
"  Eastern "  aspect  of  their  primordial 
wisdom  as  he  is  to-day  when  dealing  with 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  103 

the  problem  of  Russia.  On  the  other 
hand,  remote  as  Russia  is  from  modern 
Europe — as  remote  as  the  middle  ages  are 
from  our  own  time — she  is  now  making 
rapid  strides  to  bring  herself  into  line  with 
the  rest  of  the  civilized  world — that  is  to 
complete  the  process  of  industrialization 
which  will  ultimately  leave  her  as  devoid 
of  her  present  wrappings  of  mysticism  as 
it  left  Germany  of  her  erstwhile  "  national  " 
romanticism.  The  mysticism  of  Russian 
thought  is  nothing  but  a  certain  process 
of  continued  introspection  carried  into  the 
deepest  recesses  of  the  human  spirit.  The 
prevalence  of  this  contemplative  mood, 
which  has  been  caused  by  the  reaction  of 
certain  economic  and  political  conditions 
upon  different  classes  of  the  Russian  nation, 
has  made  this  feature  a  kind  of  national 
characteristic.  But  it  is  after  all  merely 
a  question  of  quantity  or  number  and  not 
of  quality  or  essence.  We  have  only  to 
consider  the  personality  and  teaching  of 
Friedrich  Nietzsche,  perhaps  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  spiritual  phenomena  in 


104     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  history  of  the  Western  world,  to  be 
led  to  the  conviction  that  whatever  the 
accumulated  riches  of  Western  culture  may 
be  (and  Nietzsche  symbolized  in  himself 
the  distinctive  features  of  the  West  as  few 
thinkers  have)  there  does  not  exist  any 
real  obstacle  which  could  hide  the  mysteries 
of  human  personality  from  the  patient 
researches  of  an  earnest  intellect.  Thus  the 
peculiar  significance  of  the  Russian  mind, 
with  all  its  inherited  wealth  of  spiritual 
experience  and  vicissitude,  garnered  from 
the  ancient  world  by  Byzantine  Christianity, 
is  not  impenetrable  to  the  observer  provided 
he  has  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  shallow 
rationalism  of  our  own  time.  One  thing 
Russia  can  justly  claim  to  her  credit. 
In  the  moral  and  intellectual  struggles  of 
her  sons  she  agonizes  for  the  rest  of  the 
world.  This  vicarious  suffering  is  not  so 
much  the  virtue  of  Russia  as  it  is  the  short- 
coming of  the  other  nations,  who  have 
sacrificed  their  spiritual  birthright  on  the 
altar  of  commercialism.  And  for  this 
reason,  if  for  no  other,  the  Western  world 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  105 

would  receive  a  new  and  vital  stimulus  if 
it  followed  more  closely  and  with  a  greater 
sympathy  the  spiritual  life  of  the  Russian 
people. 

It  is  sufficient  to  refer  to  Russian  litera- 
ture to  be  instantly  impressed  by  the  fervent 
spirit  which  pervades  most  of  its  standard 
creations.  In  the  works  of  Tolstoy  and 
Dostoyevsky  the  eternal  problems  of  life 
are  formulated  with  such  a  broadness  of 
vision,  and  faced  with  such  boldness,  that 
even  the  sceptical  West  has  been  compelled 
to  recognize  in  them  a  new  spiritual  force 
carrying  a  message  of  profound  significance 
and  opening  new,  heretofore  unfamiliar, 
vistas  of  the  world.  A  greater  acquaintance 
with  the  past  and  present  of  Russian 
thought  would  reveal  to  the  modern 
European  that  Tolstoy  and  Dostoyevsky 
by  no  means  exhaust  the  wells  of  Russian 
intellectual  activity.  Towering  nearly  as 
high  as  these  two,  though  in  a  realm 
different  from  theirs,  there  stands  the 
original  figure  of  Vladimir  Soloviev,  the 
poet,  the  visionary,  and  the  philosopher  of 


exceptional  acumen,  and  following  in  his 
footsteps  is  seen  the  group  of  younger 
writers,  all  eager  questioners  oi  the 
mysteries  of  life,  amongst  whom  Merezh- 
kovsky,  Rozanov,  and  Ivanov  stand  out 
as  the  most  gifted  and  the  most  arresting. 
Whatever  our  attitude  toward  religion  and 
mysticism  may  be,  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
that  this  group  of  authors  has  made  clear 
to  us  some  new  aspects  of  the  world,  of 
which  before  we  had  been  but  dimly 
conscious. 

Selecting  Viacheslav  Ivanov  for  the 
subject  of  the  present  essay,  I  do  so  not 
only  for  reasons  of  personal  sympathy,  but 
also  because,  in  my  opinion,  he  is  a  typical 
and,  at  the  same  time,  original  representa- 
tive of  modern  intellectual  Russia. 

Ivanov  is  a  poet  and  a  thinker,  who 
embodies  his  profound  revelations  in  a 
form  that  is  austere  and  majestic  and  yet 
instinct  with  a  singularly  intimate  and 
compelling  beauty.  His  genius  is  generally 
known  only  to  the  elect,  for  the  involved 
and  archaic  form  he  affects  in  his  poetry, 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  107 

and  the  depth  of  his  thought  render  him 
virtually  unintelligible  to  the  multitude. 
Of  all  the  devotees  of  Symbolism  in  Russia 
he  is  the  most  interesting  and  perhaps  the 
most  important,  since  in  his  poems  and 
essays  he  has  created  new  values  and 
opened  a  vista  of  new  realities. 

Realities  or  "  realiora,"  as  he  prefers  to 
call  them — the  eternal  absolutes  of  human 
life — these  are  the  objects  of  his  poetic 
vision.  Need  we  argue  with  him  as  to 
whether  these  absolutes  do  actually  exist, 
or  whether  the}'  are  merely  the  creations 
of  a  self-confident  mind,  projected  upon 
the  world  of  its  own  thought  ?  The  dis- 
tinction is  not  essential.  Whether  they 
exist  or  not,  one  thing  is  beyond  doubt  : 
they  are  absolutes  for  the  human  mind — 
human  absolutes,  so  to  speak — realities  of 
which  we  are  profoundly  conscious  when- 
ever we  venture  to  peer  into  the  innermost 
depths  of  our  own  soul.  A  thousand 
generations  have  experienced  and  pro- 
claimed them.  To  the  human  mind  they 
seem  to  partake  of  a  reality  kindred  with 


io8     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

Time  and  Space.  Within  the  circum- 
scribed limits  of  our  understanding  we 
cannot  help  seeing  the  universe  presented 
in  their  terms,  resolved  into  them,  as  it 
were,  as  we  see  it  resolved  into  the  terms 
of  space  and  time.  So  let  us  not  question 
the  poet  and  the  visionary  on  the  ground 
of  "  fact  " — for  the  essential  fact  lies  in 
the  message.  But  what  -is  the  message 
of  Ivanov  ?  To  give  an  adequate  idea  of 
his  teaching  would  not  be  possible  within 
the  scope  of  a  short  essay,  so  that  I 
must  confine  myself  to  stating  funda- 
mental principles. 

Through  the  medium  of  Ivanov's  philo- 
sophy the  world  is  seen  as  the  resultant  of 
two  opposing  principles,  which  have  been 
slowly  evolving  themselves  in  the  cosmic 
development  of  the  Universe.  As  I  am 
trying  to  penetrate  their  nature  a  grand 
and  startling  picture  is  revealed  to  my 
imagination. 

It  seems  as  though  the  flood  of  time  rolls 
back  and  we  hear  once  more  the  vast  and 
ever-growing  sound  of  wonder  which  was 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  109 

thrilling  the  Earth  in  her  dreamy  rotation 
round  the  central  body  of  the  nebula, 
which  enveloped  her  like  a  veil.  Once 
again  we  seem  to  perceive  the  dramatic 
moment  when  the  veil  was  rent  and  the 
awakened  Earth  stood  revealed,  resplen- 
dent in  her  garment  of  light.  She  gazed 
in  awe  upon  the  glowing  mass  of  the  Sun, 
hardly  distinguished  yet,  for  it  was  little 
more  radiant  than  herself,  and  from  her  be- 
wildered soul  burst  forth  a  sound — a  single 
word  which  she  was  just  learning  to  utter, 
a  word  which  resounded  and  trembled  to 
the  uttermost  depths  of  space — "  Thou." 
'  Thou  " — she  repeated,  gazing  spell-bound 
at  her  mother-Sun,  unable  as  yet  to  grasp 
the  full  significance  of  her  new  position. 
Then  the  truth  rushed  in  upon  her — then 
she  felt  how  intolerable  was  the  burden  of 
separate  existence,  how  overwhelming  the 
consciousness  of  her  identity,  and  she 
would  fain  have  withdrawn  again  into 
the  bosom  of  her  mother  to  swoon  and 
lose  herself  once  more  in  the  languid, 
boundless  whole. 


no     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

In  the  same  way  it  seems  as  though  we 
can  hear  the  eternal  "  Thou  "  as  it  is  uttered 
in  one  grand,  swelling  harmony  by  all  the 
myriads  of  cosmic  intelligences,  who,  spring- 
ing into  existence,  stand  aghast  at  finding 
themselves  so  suddenly  separated  from  the 
world  by  an  abysmal  and  impassable  gulf. 
And  then,  as  the  ages  rolled  on,  Man 
appeared,  and  he,  too,  gazed  in  a  great 
wonder  at  the  world,  repeating  the  awful 
syllable  "  Thou,"  crying  it  to  the  soft, 
sweet  Earth,  to  the  near,  dim  Moon,  to  the 
distant,  brilliant  Sun,  and  to  the  whole 
of  the  majestic  Universe,  which  he  feared 
and  loved  and  worshipped,  praying  and 
seeking  in  agony  of  spirit  the  unattain- 
able boon  of  oblivion — of  merging  his 
finite  being  into  the  infinite  life  of  the 
One,  as  the  raindrop  melts  into  the  shining 
sea.  But  in  spite  of  this  insatiable  longing, 
this  unceasing  prayer,  Man  found  the  gulf 
growing  ever  wider  and  deeper,  until  in 
the  process  of  time  there  came  another 
change.  By  slow  degrees  he  became  con- 
scious of  some  deep  and  thrilling  music 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  in 

rising  within  him.  He  closed  his  eyes  to 
the  world  and  turned  them  in  upon  himself, 
listening  enthralled  to  this  strange  and 
unknown  rhythm  of  the  soul.  Suddenly  a 
cry  of  unspeakable  joy  burst  from  his 
bosom.  "  I,"  shouted  the  Man  in  rapture, 
"  I  am  !  " — "  Thou,  the  Sun,  Universe, 
God — Thou  hast  existed  from  all  time — 
now  I  am  born — I  stand  before  Thee — an 
equal — no  longer  shall  my  head  bow  in 
terror  before  Thee — I  fear  Thee  not — I  am 
free  !  "  And  so  Man  challenged  the  Uni- 
verse and  measured  his  strength  against 
it.  But  again  and  again  would  the  power 
of  his  pride  faint  within  him  and  he  would 
taste  the  bitterness  of  failure  and  defeat. 

Woman  was  his  companion  in  life,  and  to 
her  the  wild  strugglings  and  longings  of  his 
spirit  seemed  strange  and  alien.  She  found 
herself  unable  to  join  him  in  his  revolt, 
for  she  was  not  yet  entirely  severed  from 
the  Earth,  from  the  sublime  sweep  of  its 
movements  which  throbbed  and  palpitated 
through  every  particle  of  her  being.  By 
her  proximity  to  Man  she  was  able  partially 


112     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

to  sway  and  conquer  his  mind,  and  to 
communicate  to  him  the  stream  of  universal 
life  which  flowed  through  her.  Thus  Man 
at  times  would  relinquish  the  independence 
he  had  won  in  asserting  the  power  of  his 
"  I,"  in  order  to  submit  to  the  omnipotent 
and  all-embracing  '  Thou."  But  again 
and  again  has  he  returned  to  the  strife, 
creating  new  and  ingenious  fortifications, 
building  higher  and  more  powerful  barriers, 
but  the  "  Thou  "  has  always  followed  close 
upon  him,  and  the  most  he  could  do  was 
to  delay  and  postpone  his  inevitable  defeat. 
It  is  thus  that  I  picture  the  general 
meaning  and  evolution  of  the  fundamental 
principles  which  Ivanov  sees  as  the  basis 
of  life.  Perhaps  this  visual  conception  of 
their  revealment  somewhat  reflects  my  own 
sympathy  with  man's  struggle  for  self- 
assertion,  which  is  rather  antagonistic  to 
Ivanov's  ideas.  But  apart  from  this  sub- 
jective valuation  the  principles  themselves 
have  been  set  out  as  they  are  conceived 
by  Ivanov.  Expressing  them  in  a  less  alle- 
gorical form,  I  may  say  that  Ivanov  starts 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  113 

from  the  antithesis  of  unity  and  multiplicity, 
Nature  and  Man,  "  Thou  and  I,"  which  he 
symbolises  in  the  Greek  myths  of  Apollo 
and  Dionysus.  Nietzsche  was  the  first  to 
indicate  the  importance  of  the  distinction 
between  these  two  deities,  which  in  its 
application  to  art  he  defined  as  "  the  two 
art-worlds  of  dreamland  and  drunkenness." 
Ivanov,  however,  takes  the  antithesis  as 
the  basis  for  the  whole  of  his  system, 
reducing  it  on  the  one  side  to  its  first 
principles,  and  amplifying  it  on  the  other 
with  all  the  wealth  of  human  experience 
which  was  gained  through  and  in  Christi- 
anity. Apollo  for  him  is  not  only  god  of 
dreamland,  but  a  god  personifying  the 
power  of  contemplative  vision  in  memory. 
Through  memory  we  affirm  ourselves. 
Through  memory  which  retains  for  us 
the  image  of  the  eternal  past,  the  life  of 
humanity  and  the  Universe,  we  are  able 
to  contemplate  the  world  in  general,  and 
works  of  art  in  particular,  as  distinct  and 
external  verities.  Through  memory  we  can 
compare  and  distinguish,  dramatize  and 


114     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

expand,  until  our  hearts  throb  with  the 
heart-beats  of  the  Eternal,  and  our  minds 
respond  to  the  infinite  and  harmonious 
rhythm  and  measure  of  the  world.  Thus 
in  Apollo  we  exalt  our  microcosm  to  the 
Olympic  attitude  of  contemplation,  where 
it  is  able  to  embrace  and  absorb,  partially 
at  least,  the  immeasurable  expanses  of  the 
macrocosm.  Developing  Ivanov's  concep- 
tion of  Apollo,  we  can,  however,  come  to 
an  even  higher  form  of  the  Apollonian 
principle.  "  Individuation  " — humanity — 
our  temporary  independence  and  segrega- 
tion from  the  life  of  the  Cosmos — regarded, 
as  it  is  by  so  many  thinkers  as  some- 
thing altogether  imaginary  and  deceptive 
— reveals,  from  the  Apollonian  standpoint, 
its  primordial  significance  and  eternal  value. 
"  The  human  "  is  that  peculiar  expression 
of  Being  which  we  have  won  for  ourselves 
during  our  incessant  struggle  to  emerge 
from  the  oblivion  of  the  all-gulfing  Universe. 
Shall  we  lightly  relinquish  this  priceless 
boon  ?  Shall  we  not  rather  strive  with  all 
the  power  of  knowledge  and  understanding 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  115 

to  grapple  to  our  souls  these  "  shadows  " 
and  "  shells  "  of  the  Realities  which  we 
are  thought  to  be  ?  Thus  the  human 
microcosm  becomes  the  highest  form  of 
conscious  reality,  not  only  because  it  is  a 
miraculous  identity  through  which  even 
the  chaos  of  the  Inane  and  the  Unknown 
finds  form  and  law,  but  also  because  it  is 
"  ours,"  because  it  is  "  human." 

But  if  my  personal  sympathies  rest 
entirely  with  Apollo,  such  is  not  the  atti- 
tude of  Ivanov.  Apollonian  as  of  necessity 
he  is,  his  vision  is  nevertheless  strained  to 
pierce  the  mysterious  impenetrability  of  the 
Dionysian  world.  Like  Nietzsche  he  is 
captivated  by  its  spontaneity,  by  its  intoxi- 
cation, by  the  orgiastic  ecstasy  and  funda- 
mental actuality  of  its  manifestations.  But 
he  goes  further.  Beyond  the  exaltation, 
the  fierce  elemental  transport  of  its  joys, 
he  sees  the  tragic  face  of  Reality  itself. 
Here  is  waged  the  eternal  strife  of  Becoming 
and  Being.  The  world  seems  to  suffer  from 
its  very  identity.  Aflame  with  an  insati- 
able desire,  it  yearns  for  destruction,  sacri- 


fice,  pain,  all  the  terror  and  madness  of 
existence  in  order  the  better  to  feel  the  dual 
nature  of  its  being,  to  feel  that  it  is  and  that 
it  is  not,  to  taste  at  the  same  time  of  life 
and  death,  of  existence  and  non-existence, 
of  consciousness  and  oblivion.  And  when 
the  inevitable  moment  comes,  and  the  en- 
raptured world  abandons  itself  to  the  last 
abnegation,  though  destroyed  it  rises  again, 
athirst  for  life  and  beauty  and  love.  Thus 
the  face  of  Dionysus,  the  tragic  god  of 
suffering,  sacrifice,  and  resurrection  is  ever 
revealed  in  the  heart  of  the  world. 

Such  is  Ivanov's  conception  of  Dionysus. 
In  his  monograph  on  "  The  Hellenic  Religion 
of  the  Suffering  God,"  he  tries  to  prove 
that  such  was  the  conception  of  the  ancient 
Greeks — a  contention  which  is  greatly  at 
variance  with  the  prevailing  view,  shared 
even  by  Nietzsche,  of  the  uniform,  har- 
monious nature  of  Dionysus.  Ivanov,  how- 
ever, does  not  stop  here.  He  develops 
his  principle  one  stage  further,  arriving 
at  a  conclusion  which  may  appear  at 
first  sight  particularly 'startling.  He  sees 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  117 

Dionysus  as  Christ.  Here  the  Pagan  and 
Christian  philosophies  are  reconciled.  Un- 
expected as  this  conclusion  may  appear, 
it  is  neither  arbitrary  nor  baseless.  There 
are  many  different  aspects  of  Christ,  and  at 
least  one  of  them — that  of  the  Catholic 
religion,  sanctifying  and  deifying  the  flesh, 
the  materia — has  many  points  in  common 
with  the  conception  of  Ivanov.  The 
common  elements  of  suffering,  sacrifice, 
and  resurrection,  indicate  further  points  of 
similarity  between  Christ  and  Dionysus. 
It  is  true  that  such  a  conception  of  Christ 
lacks  many  of  the  human  attributes  which 
are  usually  associated  with  him.  But  for 
Ivanov  there  is  nothing  divine  in  the  human 
which  is  only  illusionary  and  relative. 
God  to  him  is  the  Dionysus  of  suffering 
and  love.  But  Christ  is  the  God  of  suffer- 
ing and  love.  It  follows  then  that  Christ 
is  Dionysus. 

But  however  enamoured  Ivanov  appears 
to  be  of  the  tragic  mask  of  Dionysus,  he 
is  not  entirely  under  its  dominion.  He 
has  listened  too  much  and  too  long  to  the 


n8     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

enchanting  wisdom  of  Apollo,  to  be  able 
to  surrender  himself  entirely  to  the  oblivion 
and  the  bottomless  abysses  of  the  Dionysian 
chaos.  He  is  ever  peering  into  their  depths, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  their  innermost 
mysteries,  and  yet  what  he  sees  is  not  the 
real  orgiastic  chaos  of  elements,  but  only 
a  reflection  of  it  in  the  Apollonian  mirror. 
This  mirror  may  be  conceived  as  having 
two  distinct  forms.  The  one  is  colourless 
and  bright,  and  reflects  only  the  world  of 
external  forms,  transparent  and  unsub- 
stantial, as  though  the  qualities  had  been 
abstracted  and  only  the  proportions  left. 
The  other  is  sombre  in  colour,  and  the 
world  which  it  reflects  is  also  transparent, 
but  heavy  and  metallic,  resounding  faintly 
like  the  low  melodious  singing  of  silver— 
the  muffled  voice  of  Reality.  It  is  in  the 
revelations  of  the  dark  mirror  that  Ivanov 
sees  the  Dionysian  world.  There  he  sees 
the  face  of  the  world's  tragedy,  upon  which, 
to  use  his  own  metaphor,  no  man  may  look 
with  naked  vision  and  escape  the  fate  of 
Eurypylus,  who  was  overwhelmed  with 


VIACHESLAV  IVANOV  119 

madness  after  he  had  gazed  upon  the 
awful  image  of  Dionysus  in  the  ark,  which 
he  received  from  Cassandra  as  his  share  of 
the  spoils  after  the  siege  of  Troy.  Thus  it 
is  through  the  purifying  medium  of  Apollo 
that  Ivanov  can  look  upon  the  horror  of 
Dionysus,  and  likewise  it  is  to  Apollo 
that  he  chiefly  owes  his  wonderful  poetry, 
the  exquisite  perfection,  balance,  and  form 
of  his  hymns  in  honour  of  Dionysus.  These 
classical  poems,  conforming  so  strictly  to 
the  highest  canons  of  Apollonian  art,  could 
never  have  been  inspired  alone  by  the 
vehement  and  terrible  self-abandon  of 
Dionysus.  And  if  I  have  to  conclude  this 
note  with  a  definite  verdict,  will  it  not 
be  just  to  infer  that,  in  the  case  of  the 
personality  and  teaching  of  Ivanov,  both 
these  great  deities  have  an  equal  claim 
to  recognition  ?  As  with  Ivanov,  so  with 
humanity,  Apollo  and  Dionysus  are  mutu- 
ally interdependent  and  co-eternal.  They 
are  the  two  primordial  forces  whose 
resultant  is  Existence,  and  through  their 
boundless  activities  and  interactions, 


120     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

through  the  birth  of  suns  and  planets, 
the  rise  and  fall  of  empires  and  civiliza- 
tions, through  all  the  joys  and  sorrows, 
the  glory  and  shame,  the  triumph  and 
despair  of  life,  the  soul  of  Man  is  slowly 
evolving  and  perfecting  itself.  Who  then 
shall  judge  between  these  two  great  prin- 
ciples— the  gods  of  negation  and  affirma- 
tion ;  the  unhuman  and  the  human ; 
Dionysus  and  Apollo  ? 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE 
THEATRE 


LIVING    SPACE    AND    THE 
THEATRE 


CONSULTING  THE  CYCLOPS  AND  THE 
ELEPHANT  ON  PROBLEMS  OF  ART 

THERE  is  a  curious  Russian  expression  : 
"  smotri  v-6ba,"  i.e.  "  look  out  with 
both  eyes,"  and  another  :  "  vosmi  glaza 
v-rooki,"  i.e.  "  take  your  eyes  in  your 
hands."  They  both  look  simple  enough, 
and  such  they  really  are  when  used 
in  popular  speech.  But  their  apparent 
simplicity  conceals  a  depth  of  wisdom 
that  far  transcends  their  usual  meaning. 
Indeed,  how  often  do  we  realize  what  it 
means  to  look  with  both  eyes  ?  Would 
the  world  appear  the  same  if  we,  like  the 
fabulous  Cyclops,  had  only  one  eye  ?  Or 
again,  would  the  things  around  us  look 
different  if  we  carried  our  eyes  in  our  hands, 


123 


124 

just  as  some  species  of  fish  which  have 
their  visual  organs  at  the  end  of  long 
tentacles  ? 

These  are  no  idle  speculations  for  the 
lover  of  curiosities  and  riddles.  They 
deal  with  the  fundamental  problems  of 
space,  which  most  people  either  overlook, 
or  ignore.  It  will,  therefore,  be  not 
altogether  useless  to  try  and  disclose  the 
hidden  significance  of  these  questions,  and 
all  the  more  so,  as  the  results  of  our 
inquiry  will  enable  us  to  throw  some 
light  on  the  complicated  problem  of  space 
in  the  theatre. 

Most  people  talk  of  space  as  if  it  were 
nothing  but  a  combination  of  properties 
governed  by  the  formulae  of  Euclid.  They 
know  that  there  are  planes  and  volumes, 
or,  as  the  more  learned  amongst  them 
would  put  it,  planes  have  two  dimensions 
and  volumes  three,  and  having  understood 
as  much,  they  are  content  to  leave  the 
matter  in  the  hands  of  those  who  are 
supposed  to  know  all  about  it.  These, 
doubtless,  do  know  a  great  deal.  The 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     125 

mathematician,  for  instance,  may  explain 
that  besides  the  space  of  Euclid  there  are 
the  spaces  of  Lobachevsky  and  Riman,  in 
which  the  sum  of  the  angles  of  a  triangle 
can  be  more  than  two  right  angles  or 
less,  and  parallel  lines  can  meet ;  though 
he  may  also  add  that,  after  all,  it  matters 
very  little,  and  we  can  go  about  our 
business  just  as  before  without  fear  of 
running  into  the  man  to  whom  we  owe 
money,  at  the  end  of  the  street,  should 
we  perchance  be  walking  on  the  onfe 
side  of  it  and  he  on  the  other  ;  provided, 
of  course,  that  we  take  sufficient  care 
not  to  catch  his  eye.  And  many  other 
interesting  things  the  mathematician  could 
tell  us.  Nor  would  the  philosopher  be 
less  instructive.  From  him  we  would 
hear  many  exciting  theories  about  what 
space  actually  is  :  whether  it  is  an  inde- 
pendent reality,  or  a  form  of  thought,  or 
a  mere  sensation  developed  in  man  dur- 
ing the  endless  process  of  evolution.  The 
physiologist,  for  his  part,  may  enlarge 
on  the  construction  and  working  of  the 


126     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

eye,  remarking,  perhaps,  as  Helmholtz 
did,  that  if  this  apparatus  had  been 
produced  by  an  optician,  the  purchaser 
would  be  justified  in  immediately  return- 
ing it  to  the  maker  and  even  using  strong 
language.  As  to  the  joint  working  of 
the  two-eye-system,  he  may  say  that  the 
scientists  themselves  have  yet  been  unable 
to  agree  on  its  explanation.  At  any  rate, 
there  are  some  who  maintain  that  we  see  all 
objects  double,  except  the  one  we  fix  with 
our  eyes.  If  we  are  not  aware  of  the  fact, 
it  only  proves  how  absent-minded  we  are. 

However,  with  all  their  interesting 
theories,  none  of  these  learned  men  will 
ever  tell  us  one  thing  :  that  is,  how 
we  actually  feel  space  and  how  it  affects 
our  experience  of  the  world.  It  is  only 
when  we  turn  to  the  ancient  thinkers, 
such,  for  instance,  as  Pythagoras,  that  we 
see  men,  for  whom  space  was  not  a  mere 
abstract  idea,  but  a  living  reality  eternally 
present  before  the  human  consciousness 
and  impressing  itself  upon  man  with  all 
the  multitude  of  its  forms. 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     127 

Of  the  people  who  actually  feel  space, 
who  respond  to  every  form  it  assumes, 
who  may  be  said  to  breathe  with  their 
eyes,  we  should  expect  the  artists  to 
possess  a  greater  knowledge  of  its  nature 
than  is  granted  to  anybody  else.  But  here 
we  have  a  case  of  peculiar  professional 
blindness.  The  painter  sees  the  world 
differently  from  the  sculptor  ;  the  sculptor 
differently  from  the  architect ;  the  archi- 
tect differently  from  both  the  others  ;  and 
none  of  them  seem  to  be  able  to  embrace 
the  visible  world  in  all  its  entirety. 

On  more  than  one  occasion  I  have 
heard  painters  say  that  they  cannot  bear 
to  look  in  a  stereoscope :  the  sight  of 
innumerable  planes  was  repugnant  to  their 
artistic  feeling.  And  I  can  well  understand 
them.  Sensitive  to  the  nature  of  their 
medium,  they  have  completely  submitted 
to  the  form  of  visual  perception  it  has 
imposed  upon  them,  and  so  the  flat  surface 
of  a  painting  has  become  for  them  the 
only  form  of  space  worth  noticing.  It  is 
true,  the  history  of  painting  knows  of 


128     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

numerous  attempts  at  mastering  the 
effect  of  depth  and  even  the  stereoscopic 
effect  of  space.  The  artists,  bent  on  re- 
presenting objects  as  we  ordinarily  see 
them,  tried  every  means  at  their  disposal 
to  create  the  impression  of  things  standing 
out  from  their  background.  In  this  the}' 
often  succeeded,  but,  alas  !  at  the  price 
of  sacrificing  the  picture  as  an  independent 
entity.  For  two  distinct  moments  are 
involved  in  the  representation  of  stereo- 
scopic space :  the  moment  of  realism, 
of  faithful  reproduction  in  portraying  the 
world  around  us,  which,  as  a  principle, 
has  no  absolute  artistic  significance,  either 
in  the  positive  or  the  negative  sense ; 
and  the  moment  of  discontinuity,  of 
breaking  up  space  into  innumerable 
planes,  which,  on  the  contrary,  has  the 
most  decisive  bearing  on  the  artistic  use 
of  a  medium  both  as  regards  the  formal 
nature  of  the  latter,  and  the  inner  meaning 
which  the  ideas  conceived  in  terms  of 
space  must  of  necessity  carry. 

Continuity   and    discontinuity   of   space 


•— i 
-< 

H 


i 
P 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     129 

— these  are  the  two  fundamental  forms 
of  man's  perception  which  stand  for  two 
distinct  kinds  of  human  experience  and 
symbolize  two  opposite  conceptions  of 
the  world. 

A  concrete  example  will  help  to  illus- 
trate this  statement.  Without  touching 
here  upon  the  theory  of  vision,  let  us 
imagine  for  the  moment  that  through 
some  unfortunate  accident  we  are  able 
to  see  with  one  eye  only.  Those  who 
have  had  this  unpleasant  experience 
will  agree  that  in  this  "  monocular " 
position  our  sensation  of  space  will  differ 
materially  from  the  ordinary  one.  We 
shall  find,  for  instance,  that  our  sense 
of  distance  has  become  considerably 
weakened,  whilst  surrounding  objects  will 
seem  to  fuse  into  one  continuous  mass, 
If  we  took  two  long  pencils  and  held 
them  freely  at  arm's  length,  their  points 
would  show  a  somewhat  persistent  ten- 
dency to  frustrate  any  efforts  in  bringing 
them  together.  But  probably  the  most 
striking  experience  of  all  we  should  get  on 
i 


130     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

venturing  out  into  the  street  in  the  dusk 
or  evening,  when  subdued  light  would 
no  longer  help  us  in  judging  distance 
by  the  contrasts  of  illumination.  There,  as 
we  walk,  we  should  suddenly  discover  that 
the  street  itself  moves  straight  against 
us,  with  its  houses,  railings,  and  passers- 
by  flowing  in  one  incessant  stream  and 
suddenly  growing  in  size  the  moment  we 
approach  them,  and  with  the  lamp-posts, 
in  particular,  springing  up  before  our  eyes 
when  we  least  expect  them.  Speaking 
from  personal  experience,  I  may  say  that 
this  sensation  of  continuity  is  not  in 
the  least  amusing.  Rather  is  it  apt  to 
depress  our  mind  by  the  feeling  of  loss 
of  individuality,  which  overtakes  us  amidst 
the  numberless  objects  clinging  to  us  on 
all  sides,  giving  no  elbow-room  for  free 
movement,  drawing  us  in  to  dissolve  and 
merge  in  their  inane  mass. 

What  a  relief  it  is  after  this  experience  to 
be  able  to  see  with  both  eyes  !  It  seems  as 
if  the  spirit  of  reason  has  suddenly  descended 
upon  the  weltering  chaos.  At  once  we  feel 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     131 

that  we  are  no  longer  a  part  of  an  indefinite 
and  unwieldy  conglomeration  of  objects,  but 
stand  opposed  to  them  all — independent 
individualities  and  masters  of  our  move- 
ments and  actions.  Moreover,  the  things 
we  see,  begin  to  tear  themselves  off  from 
ihe  background  which  has  been  envelop- 
ing them,  and  step  forward,  each  by  itself, 
-each  distinct  from  the  others,  and  holding 
its  own  place.  Their  clear-cut  masses,  so 
unlike  their  former  vague  and  shapeless 
contours,  make  us  feel  measure  and  rhythm 
in  the  world,  revealing  the  power  of  dis- 
continuity as  the  formative  principle  of 
reality. 

There  is,  however,  a  definite  limit 
placed  on  the  power  of  our  vision  in 
shaping  and  individualizing  the  ambience. 
Whilst  marking  a  circle  round  ourselves 
in  our  position  of  beholders,  and  singling 
out  likewise  the  objects  in  our  immediate 
vicinity,  the  binocular  mechanism  of  our 
vision  fails  to  break  up  the  continuity 
of  the  objects  lying  farther  away.  The 
•experiments  carried  out  by  the  physiolo- 


132     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

gists,  have  determined  the  boundaries  of 
the  sphere  within  which  our  sight  is 
capable  of  the  stereoscopic  effect.  The 
radius  of  this  sphere  has  been  calculated 
at  about  500  yards.  Beyond  it  there 
begins  the  region  of  the  monocular  vision, 
since  the  distance  dividing  the  eyes  of 
man  is  too  small  to  form  the  angle  suffi- 
cient for  breaking  up  the  fused  planes  of 
the  more  distant  objects. 

In  this  respect  the  bigger  animals,  such 
as  the  elephant,  must  be  considered  more 
fortunate.  They  seem  to  possess  the 
visual  apparatus  which  should  enable 
them  to  carry  the  individualizing  power 
of  discontinuity  to  the  extent  greatly  sur- 
passing the  capacity  of  the  human  eyesight. 
It  has  always  puzzled  me  to  find  out 
how  these  big  animals  see  the  surround- 
ing world.  Are  they  more  inclined  to 
the  asserting  of  their  individuality  than 
are  the  smaller  animals  ?  Does  the  greater 
clearness  of  form  which  the  objects  must 
assume  in  their  vision,  help  them  only  in 
sighting  their  friends  and  enemies,  or  does 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     133 

their  individual  detachment  make  them 
feel  lost  and  lonesome,  since  much  greater 
spiritual  powers  are  needed  for  rejoicing  in 
one's  isolation,  than  are  granted  even  to  the 
wisest  animals  ?  Naturally,  I  could  never 
answer  these  questions.  But  while  ponder- 
ing over  them,  I  came  upon  the  idea 
of  an  optical  device,  which  seemed  to 
bring  me  nearer  to  their  solution.  At  the 
time  (this  happened  some  eight  years 
back)  I  was  greatly  pleased  with  my 
invention  and  speculated  joyfully  on  the 
results  its  application  would  bring  in  a 
number  of  important  problems.  To  my 
disappointment,  however,  I  soon  dis- 
covered that  I  had  been  anticipated  in 
this  by  no  less  a  man  than  Helmholtz 
who,  as  long  ago  as  1857,  had  designed 
an  apparatus  on  exactly  the  same  lines 
as  mine.  So,  not  without  regret,  I  must 
concede  the  priority  to  Helmholtz's  "  tele- 
stereoscope  "  (as  he  christened  his  device), 
and  will  make  use  of  his  invention  to 
illustrate  my  argument.  As  to  the  appli- 
cation of  the  stereoscopic  principle  in  the 


134     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

wider  field  of  sciences,  alas !  it  was 
not  I  who  discovered  the  planetoid 
"  Stereoscopia  !  " 

I  have  quoted  the  Russian  expression  : 
"  Take  your  eyes  in  your  hands."  With 
the  help  of  the  tele-stereoscope  we  are 
actually  enabled  to  do  so.  In  this  apparatus 
the  difficulty  in  having  our  eyes  spaced  so 
closely  together,  is  overcome  by  the  use 
of  four  mirrors,  two  facing  the  eyes,  and 
two  sliding  in  a  frame  and  facing  the 
object  to  be  seen.  By  means  of  this 
arrangement  the  angle,  at  which  we  see 
the  object,  can  be  increased  to  any  size 
desirable,  and,  as  a  result,  the  power  of 
seeing  things  stereoscopically  is  extended 
to  the  farthest  limits  open  to  our  vision. 

I  need  not  dwell  again  on  the  startling 
experience  of  observing  the  world  split 
up  into  innumerable  independent  entities. 
Nor  do  I  claim  for  the  binocular  mechanism 
of  our  sight  that  it  is  the  only  factor  in 
forming  our  perceptions  of  continuity  and 
discontinuity  in  the  world.  These  are 
rooted  in  the  very  depth  of  our  nature 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     135 

and  continually  reveal  themselves  in  a 
number  of  ways.  Of  far  greater  import- 
ance to  my  mind  is  the  fundamental 
unity  of  our  perceptions  of  space  with 
the  wider  experiences  formed  within  our 
spirit  in  the  process  of  its  crystalization. 
In  a  number  of  arts,  which  includes  the 
theatre,  space  forms  the  medium  by 
means  of  which  the  artist  conveys  his 
conceptions  to  the  observer.  Is  it  not 
essential,  for  this  reason,  to  keep  clearly 
in  mind  the  exact  nature  of  the  properties 
with  which  we  are  dealing,  and  to  realize 
to  the  fullest  extent  their  inner  signi- 
ficance ?  The  problem  of  painting,  for 
instance,  would  be  greatly  simplified  were 
it  always  understood  that  the  stereoscopic 
effect  in  a  picture  makes  us  see  not  the 
picture  as  a  whole  but  as  many  separate 
objects  represented,  whilst  at  the  same 
time  compelling  us  to  wrestle  with  the 
perception  of  the  picture's  flat  surface, 
which  is  forced  on  us  by  our  looking 
at  it  with  both  eyes.  Again,  linear  and 
atmospheric  perspective,  as  well  as  relief 


136     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

obtained  by  chiaroscuro,  do  not  disrupt 
the  unity  of  a  painting,  even  when  this  is 
viewed  at  a  close  distance,  if  they  are  kept 
within  reasonable  limits.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  artist's  attempt  at  suggesting 
depth  becomes  purposeless  when  the  paint- 
ing is  fixed  permanently  at  a  distance  lying 
on  the  border  of  binocular  vision,  since 
in  that  case  all  the  objects  seen,  includ- 
ing the  painting,  will  be  drowned  in  one 
continuous  space.  The  fact  to  be  always 
borne  in  mind  in  considering  problems 
of  art  is  the  relationship  established  be- 
tween  the  work  viewed  and  the  beholder. 
In  this  relationship  the  perceptions  of 
space  obtained  by  the  latter  play  the 
leading  part,  and  by  the  sympathetic 
influence  they  exercise  on  the  kindred 
experiences  rooted  even  more  deeply  in 
our  psychic,  instantly  and  firmly  fashion 
our  attitude  towards  the  object  before 
us. 

Raising  the  problem  above  its  particular 
form,  as  expressed  in  terms  of  space,  let 
us  inquire  into  the  forms  of  relationship 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     137 

possible  between  man  and  a  work  of  visual 
art. 

At  the  outset  we  can  distinguish  two 
basic  attitudes  on  the  part  of  man.  He 
may  either  be  engaged  in  creating  the 
work,  or  he  may  observe  it  from  the 
outside.  So  long  as  his  creative  activity 
is  spontaneous,  his  work  is  only  a  part  of 
himself,  or,  in  other  words,  the  artist  and 
the  work  are  one.  But  the  moment  he 
stops  and  takes  a  view  of  the  product  of 
his  exertions,  he  detaches  it  from  his 
own  personality  and  sees  it  possessed  of 
independent  life.  Every  man  combines 
in  himself  both  the  actor  and  the  be- 
holder, with  this  qualification  that  in  the 
professional  artist  the  predominant  role 
belongs  to  the  actor,  whilst  in  the  "  pro- 
fessional "  spectator  it  belongs  to  the 
beholder  in  him.  I  will  venture  to  state 
here,  without  sustaining  it  by  argument, 
that  art  as  art  exists  only  for  the  beholder, 
whether  he  be  the  artist  or  the  spectator, 
which  is  tantamount  to  saying  that  the 
work  of  art  ceases  to  be  "  of  art  "  as  soon 


138     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

as  it  is  no  longer  felt  as  distinct  from,  and 
opposed  to,  the  personality  of  the  man  who 
comes  in  contact  with  it.  Whether  it 
be  the  physical  or  the  mental  eye  that  we 
turn  on  the  work,  turn  it  we  must  to 
be  justified  in  using  the  term  "  art." 
And  with  this  we  find  the  moment  of 
discontinuity  introduced  again  in  our 
argument. 

So  far  we  have  established  two  mutually 
opposed  entities  :  the  beholder  and  the 
work  of  art.  But  the  latter  need  not 
be  a  complete  unity.  Behind  the  barrier 
which  invests  it  with  its  artistic  nature 
and  singles  it  out  as  an  independent 
verity,  there  may  exist  forms  that  are 
conflicting  and  disrupted,  provided  they 
remain  within  the  boundaries  marked  by 
the  original  division  from  the  beholder. 
Being  a  reality,  that  is  a  world  in  itself, 
the  work  of  art  may  speak  either  by  the 
voice  of  its  own  material,  or  by  copying 
the  voices  of  other  materials.  In  the 
first  case  the  statement  embodied  in  the 
work  will  be  presented  to  the  observer, 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     139 

in  the  second  represented.  But  no  exact 
parallelism  exists  between  these  two  forms 
of  statement,  and  the  moments  of  con- 
tinuity and  discontinuity.  The  preponder- 
ance of  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 
two  moments  depends  entirely  upon  the 
nature  of  the  medium,  and  that  of  the 
subject  stated.  The  important  fact  to 
be  noticed  is  that  the  picture  of  a 
world  placed  before  the  spectator  may  be 
either  continuous  or  discontinuous,  and  is 
therefore  capable  of  evoking  two  opposite 
groups  of  experiences  :  one  standing  for 
spontaneity,  religious  ecstasy  and  devotion, 
the  sense  of  cosmic  unity,  and  emotions  of 
similar  character,  which  tend  to  create 
the  feeling  of  a  monistic  world  fused  into 
one  integral  whole  ;  and  the  other  group 
of  experiences  which  stand  for  clear- 
consciousness,  the  sense  of  differentiation 
and  individuality,  the  distinctness  of 
form  and  the  aloofness  of  the  observing 
personality  from  the  ambience,  and  cause 
the  perception  of  an  atomistic  world,  a 
world  of  numberless  centred  units  standing 


140     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

mutually  opposed  and  asserting  themselves 
against  each  other. 

It  may  appear  to  the  reader  that  the 
abstract  character  of  the  above  definitions 
renders  them  practically  pointless  when 
applied  to  concrete  phenomena  of  art. 
I  hope,  however,  that  the  following 
analysis  of  the  various  forms  which  have 
been  revealed  to  us  in  the  history  of  the 
theatre  will  show  that  it  is  not  so.  It 
is  surprising  indeed  to  observe  how  the 
forms  of  theatre  architecture  and  the  stage 
have  been  continuously  adapting  them- 
selves to  changes  in  the  attitude  of  the 
spectator  towards  the  performance.  Else- 
where I  have  shown  the  dependence  of 
these  forms  on  the  use  of  the  methods 
of  presentation  and  representation.  It  is 
necessary  now  to  examine  them  in  the 
light  of  the  broader  principle  of  continuity 
and  discontinuity. 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     141 

II 
THE  SPECTATOR  SITTING  IN  JUDGMENT 

THE  history  of  the  theatre  presents 
no  uniform  development  of  any  definite 
principle.  In  different  countries  and  in 
different  periods  the  theatre  swayed  from 
one  form  to  another,  sometimes  creating 
new  methods,  sometimes  repeating  what 
had  been  done  before.  For  this  reason  it 
would  be  a  vain  attempt  to  try  and 
trace  the  bearing  on  the  theatre  of  the 
principles  of  continuity  and  discontinuity, 
if  in  reviewing  the  various  forms  of  the 
theatre  I  faithfully  followed  the  chrono- 
logical order  of  their  origin.  A  better 
plan  suggests  itself  to  me  of  grouping  the 
historical  data  according  to  the  principle 
which  they  illustrate. 

As  it  happens,  the  initial  stages  of  the 
history  of  the  theatre  provide  the  most 
perfect  example  of  the  significance  of  the 
principle  of  continuity,  and  thus  enable 


142     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

me  to  follow  to  some  extent  the  historical 
order  of  theatrical  forms. 

If  we  define  the  nature  of  the  theatre 
as  performance  in  action,  expressing  a 
certain  sentiment  or  idea  in  forms  whose 
significance  is  fixed  by  an  accepted  con- 
vention, we  shall  have  to  start  the  history 
of  the  theatre  from  a  somewhat  later 
stage  than  that  usually  taken.  Indeed, 
what  was  there  of  the  theatrical  nature 
in  the  spontaneous  outbursts  of  feeling, 
which  accompanied  the  early  religious 
and  popular  festivals,  so  long  as  they 
remained  haphazard  and  personal,  and 
carried  no  meaning  to  anybody  but  the 
performer  himself  ?  One  would  be  as 
much  justified  in  calling  theatrical  the 
"  performance  "  of  a  lover  in  the  outburst 
of  passion,  or  of  a  praying  man  kneeling 
before  a  holy  image.  Obviously,  "  per- 
forming "  must  be  distinguished  from 
other  activities  of  life  by  something  that 
is  peculiar  to  itself,  and  this  peculiarity 
is  its  form.  So  only  when  the  form  of 
performing  became  detached  from  the 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     143 

usual  expressions  of  living  activity,  and 
acquired  a  significance  of  its  own,  may  it 
be  said  that  the  art  of  the  theatre  came 
into  being. 

In  this  stage  it  made  itself  apparent 
in  the  public  life  of  Greece,  in  the  various 
public  ceremonies  in  which  a  special  sym- 
bolical meaning  was  attached  to  the  ritual. 
But  the  moment  of  performing  was  par- 
ticularly marked  in  the  annual  festivals  of 
Dionysus  and,  owing  to  their  popularity 
and  importance,  it  was  soon  able  to 
develop  into  their  most  prominent  feature. 
The  popular  procession  with  which  these 
festivals  usually  began,  and  the  prepon- 
derating position  of  the  chorus  in  the 
«arly  performances,  helped  to  link  together 
the  actor  and  the  spectator  in  one  body 
•of  participants  in  the  religious  ceremony. 
The  dialogue  between  the  chorus  and  its 
leader  was  not  a  thing  outside  the  actual 
life  of  the  audience,  but  formed  a  part 
of  that  life.  There  was  no  question  of 
presenting  or  representing  a  story.  The 
story  was  simply  acted  as  something  real 


144     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

in  itself,  just  as  the  marriage  ceremony, 
whatever  rites  or  even  acted  scenes  may 
accompany  it,  always  remains  a  fact  of 
real  life,  and  never  a  spectacle,  a  show. 

So,  in  the  early  Greek  performances 
we  have  a  form  of  the  theatre  in 
which  the  identity  of  the  performance 
with  real  life  established  a  unity  between 
the  audience  and  the  performance.  Two 
moments  characterized  this  unity.  The 
moment  of  reality,  or  objectivity,  expressed 
in  the  participation  of  the  audience  in 
the  performance ;  and  the  moment  of 
action,  as  opposed  to  observation,  which 
not  only  contributed  to  the  unity  of 
the  audience  and  the  performance,  but 
also  tended  to  unite  all  the  performers 
and  the  actual  surroundings  into  one  con- 
tinuous whole.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
fact  must  not  be  lost  sight  of  that  at  that 
stage  of  the  Greek  theatre,  acting,  as  such, 
was  always  subordinate  to  the  nature  of 
the  ceremony,  and  by  its  own  power  was 
capable  only  of  a  slight  influence  on  the 
forms  of  relationship  established  amongst 


A  TYPICAL   SHAKESPEARIAN  STAGE. 


[Reconstruction  by  V.  E.  ALBRIGHT] 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     145 

the  participants  of  the  performance.  For 
this  reason,  it  would  be  wrong  to  lay  great 
stress  on  the  visual  impressions  of  unity, 
as  other  factors  must  have  played  a 
much  more  determining  part.  Only  in  the 
instances,  in  which  acting  led  to  a  state 
of  general  ecstacy,  as  it  did  in  the  orgi- 
astic rituals  performed  at  the  Eleusinian 
Mysteries,  the  wild  self-abandonment  of 
those  acting,  and  the  sense  of  unity  with 
elemental  nature  which  it  created,  must, 
doubtless,  have  been  accompanied  by,  and 
partly  due  to,  a  greatly  weakened  percep- 
tion of  form  in  space.  It  must  be  borne 
in  mind  that  the  discontinuous  effect  of 
binocular  vision,  as  well  as  the  power  of 
seeing  things  clearly,  is  possible  only  when 
our  eyes  are  converged  on  a  definite  object. 
Whereas  in  a  state  of  excitement  man 
naturally  gazes  straight  ahead,  and,  there- 
fore, gains  the  sensation  of  an  unbroken 
flow  of  space  in  which  all  objects  merge 
diffused  and  formless. 

Another    form    of    unity    between    the 
audience   and  the  performance   developed 

K 


146     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

during  the  next,  the  classical  period  of  the 
•Greek  theatre.  The  change  was  brought 
about  by  the  construction  of  an  amphi- 
theatre around  the  orchestra,  which  had 
an  immediate  effect  of  introducing  division 
in  the  ranks  of  those  who  took  part  in 
the  festival.  The  chorus,  and  the  actors 
who  soon  evolved  from  its  midst,  became 
the  only  actual  performers,  whilst  the 
part  of  the  audience  was  confined  to 
the  position  of  mere  passive  observers. 
As  the  theatrical  performances  were  losing 
their  religious  character,  the  tie  which 
bound  together  the  audience  and  the 
performers  in  the  fact  of  actual  life, 
became  ever  weaker,  and  eventually  dis- 
appeared entirely,  having  given  place  to 
a  new  and  different  form  of  unity.  The 
reality  of  religious  life  was  superseded 
by  the  reality  of  theatrical  life,  which  was 
impressed  upon  the  minds  both  of  the 
-audience  and  the  performers  by  the  very 
character  of  the  Greek  theatre-building. 

Let  us  examine  more  closely   the  rela- 
tionships between   the  performer  and  the 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     147 

spectator  which  were  thus  formed.  Taking 
the  performance  as  a  whole,  we  find  that 
the  Greek  theatre  knew  no  opposition 
between  the  real  world  in  which  was 
the  audience  whilst  in  the  theatre,  and 
the  world  of  the  play  produced.  The 
latter  world  was  presented  to  the  public 
in  the  terms  of  the  former.  The  method 
of  the  Greek  staging  is  usually  described 
as  conventional.  This  conventionalism, 
however,  was  of  a  specific  nature.  It 
was  determined  not  so  much  by  the 
subject  of  the  plays  produced,  as  by 
the  method  of  theatrical  presentation. 
Simplification  and  "  stylisation "  as 
methods  of  interpreting  plays  were 
unknown  in  the  Greek  theatre.  The 
only  conventions,  imposed  by  the  subject, 
may  be  found  in  such  devices  as  the  use 
of  cathurnae  in  order  to  distinguish  gods 
and  heroes  from  personages  of  lower  ranks, 
and  of  certain  symbolical  attributes  which 
always  accompanied  certain  characters, 
though  even  these  may  be  looked  upon 
as  greatly  determined  by  the  method  of 


148     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

presentation.  The  more  fundamental  con- 
ventions of  the  Greek  stage  must  be 
ascribed  entirely  to  this  latter  method. 
The  use  of  masks,  the  restricted  number 
of  actors,  the  architectural  scenery  and 
the  curious  device  of  "  ekkyklema  "  v/ere 
all  due  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  Greek 
theatre.  Nothing,  perhaps,  proves  this  so- 
clearly  as  the  last  mentioned  device.  In 
complete  agreement  with  the  architeciui  al 
unity  between  the  stage  and  the  rest  ot 
the  theatre,  the  Greeks  never  attempted 
to  represent  the  interior  of  a  building, 
The  action  on  the  stage  was  always  set 
outside  some  palace  or  temple,  or  in  rural 
scenery.  But  the  plots  of  some  plays 
demanded  a  setting  inside  the  building, 
and  this  difficulty  was  overcome  by  means 
of  the  "  ekkyklema."  A  platform  was 
rolled  out  through  the  central  door  in 
the  background,  and  arranged  on  it  was 
the  scene  supposed  to  have  taken  place 
within  the  walls  of  the  building  painted  on 
the  panels.  The  actors  on  the  ekkyklema 
stood  in  fixed  poses,  for  example,  in  a  scene 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE    149 

of  murder,  as  this  is  done  in  the  modern 
tableaux  vivants,  and  having  displayed 
the  picture,  came  down  on  to  the  stage  to 
continue  the  play. 

The  extreme  conventionality  of  the 
ekkyklema  stands  in  such  a  striking 
contrast  to  the  modern  ideas  of  realistic 
representation  that  some  scholars  have 
been  led  to  deny  its  very  existence  in  the 
Greek  theatre,  contending  that  a  device, 
so  crude  and  unnatural,  could  not  have 
possibly  been  tolerated  by  the  refined 
Attic  audience.  It  seems  to  me,  however, 
that  nothing  could  conform  so  naturally 
and  so  artistically  to  the  Greek  notion  of 
the  theatre,  as  this  "  crude "  method  of 
irank  theatricality. 

It  establishes  beyond  doubt  the  feature 
which,  in  the  case  of  the  mask  and 
other  Greek  conventions,  admits  of  more 
plausible  explaining  away  on  the  ground 
of  realistic  considerations.  The  cumulative 
evidence  of  these  conventional  methods, 
viewed  in  the  light  of  the  relation- 
ship between  the  audience  and  the  per- 


150     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

formance  as  a  whole,  proves  most  con- 
clusively that  the  Greeks  recognized  no 
other  form  of  producing  plays  except  that 
of  presentation. 

A  few  remarks  on  the  architecture  of 
the  Greek  theatre  will  help  to  bring  out 
some  further  important  features  of  the 
ancient  drama. 

There  are  many  disputed  points  about 
the  actual  construction  of  the  Greek 
theatre.  The  archaeological  data  are  so 
scanty  that  theories  entirely  opposed  to 
each  other  have  had  eminent  followers 
in  the  scientific  world.  The  stage,  in 
particular,  has  been  the  subject  of  a 
keen  controversy.  Dorpfeld,  for  instance, 
maintained  that  in  all  Greek  theatres 
the  actors  and  the  chorus  performed  to- 
gether in  the  orchestra,  whilst  the  stage 
served  only  as  a  background.  This  theory 
finds  few  supporters  now,  and  not  being  an 
archaeologist  myself,  I  think  I  shall  be  on 
safe  ground  if  I  accept  the  authoritative 
opinion  of  A.  E.  Haigh,  whose  book  on 
"  The  Attic  Theatre  "  is  remarkable  for  its 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     151 

wealth  of  information  and  the  author's 
insight  into  the  peculiar  character  of  the 
Greek  drama. 

I  will  quote  a  passage  from  this  book 
so  as  to  enable  the  reader  to  picture  in 
his  imagination  the  character  of  the  visual 
impressions  which  the  ancient,  spectator 
must  have  experienced  : 

'  The  general  conception  of  a  Greek 
theatre  was  that  of  a  building  with  a 
circular  dancing-place  in  the  centre,  and 
with  tiers  of  seats  arranged  round  two- 
thirds  of  the  ring,  while  the  remaining 
side  was  occupied  by  the  stage.  The 
result  was  that  all  the  spectators  had 
an  equally  good  view  of  the  orchestra, 
while  many  of  them  had  only  a  very 
poor  view  of  the  stage.  This  arrangement 
was  no  doubt  quite  natural  at  first,  when 
the  chorus  was  still  the  most  con- 
spicuous feature  in  the  drama.  But  it 
may  seem  remarkable  that  it  should  have 
been  retained  in  later  times.  We  should 
remember,  however,  that  ancient  theatres 
were  built,  not  only  for  the  drama,  but 


152     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

also  for  choral  and  musical  competitions 
of  the  most  various  kinds.  Among  the 
Greeks  these  latter  were  held  solely  in 
the  orchestra,  and  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  stage.  As  they  far  exceeded 
the  dramatic  performances  in  number,  it 
was  essential  in  a  Greek  theatre  that 
every  member  of  the  audience  should 
have  a  clear  and  direct  view  of  the 
orchestra  ;  the  view  on  to  the  stage  was 
a  matter  of  secondary  importance.  In 
Roman  theatres  the  case  was  different. 
Here  all  performances,  choral,  musical, 
and  dramatic,  were  transferred  to  the 
stage ;  the  orchestra  was  given  up  to  the 
spectators.  The  arrangements  were,  there- 
fore, considerably  modified.  The  orchestra 
and  auditorium  were  reduced  in  size  to 
a  semicircle.  The  consequence  was  that 
the  stage  became  a  much  more  prominent 
object  and  that  all  the  spectators  had  a 
fairly  good  view  of  it."  ("  The  Attic 
Theatre,"  by  A.  E.  Haigh,  p.  82.) 

The   first   fact,    therefore,    to    be   borne 
in  mind,   is   that  the   Greek  theatre  was 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     153 

not  the  best  adapted  for  performances 
on  the  stage.  Its  construction,  however, 
had  a  determining  effect  on  the  character 
of  the  Greek  drama.  Subordinating  the 
stage  in  point  of  importance  to  the  rest 
of  the  building,  it  compelled  the  Greeks 
to  regard  the  performance  merely  as  an 
episode  of  theatrical  life,  which  excluded 
the  very  idea  of  an  opposition  between 
the  world  on  the  stage  and  the  world  in 
the  auditorium. 

But  if  this  architectural  feature  helped 
to  create  the  outward  unity  of  the 
theatrical  world,  it  was  also  responsible 
for  breaking  up  this  world  from  within. 
So  long  as  the  chorus  was  predominant 
in  the  drama,  its  central  position  in  the 
orchestra  served  to  maintain  the  bond 
which  lingered  from  the  time  when  the 
audience  and  the  chorus  had  formed  one 
body  of  performers.  Later,  when  acting 
on  the  stage  became  the  main  point  of  in- 
terest, the  attitude  of  the  audience  became 
purely  spectacular  and,  as  a  result,  the 
acting,  from  the  point  of  view  of 


154     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  observer,  acquired  an  independent 
existence.  This  segregation  of  the  actor 
was  further  enhanced  by  the  view  he 
presented  from  the  proscenium. 

The  Greek  proscenium  formed  a  plat- 
form which,  during  the  classical  period, 
was  low  and  moderately  wide  (five  and 
fifteen  feet  respectively)  and,  later,  became 
higher  and  narrower.  Unlike  the  Roman 
theatre,  where  the  widening  of  the  stage 
was  accompanied  by  a  reduction  in  the 
size  of  the  orchestra,  and  served  to  divide 
the  stage  from  the  audience,  in  the  Greek 
theatre  these  changes  in  the  width  and 
height  were  due  to  the  gradual  disapppear- 
ance  of  the  chorus,  and  had  no  effect  on 
the  presentational  character  of  the  per- 
formance. They  may  also  be  neglected  in 
considering  the  visual  effect  of  acting  on 
the  Greek  stage. 

Let  us  now  picture  to  ourselves  in- 
numerable circular  tiers  packed  with 
gazers  and  sloping  down  to  the  orchestra 
in  which  a  small  group  of  men  (twelve 
to  fifteen  in  number)  is  seen  fused  with 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     155 

the  ground  and  the  surrounding  audience, 
forming  together  a  living  coating  of  a 
huge  section  of  a  cone.  At  the  front 
side  of  this  cone  there  cuts  into  it  a 
long  and  narrow  platform,  limited  by  a 
rising  backwall  with  architectural  mould- 
ings and  painted  architectural  scenery.  A 
few  figures  are  seen  on  the  platform. 
They  stand  silhouetted  against  the  wall 
with  their  forms  detached  and  carved 
out  like  statues.  There  are  few  objects 
around  them.  Every  fold  of  their  dress, 
every  line  of  their  masks,  every  moulding 
of  the  backwall,  stand  out  clearly  in  the 
glaring  daylight.  Side  by  side  with  the 
blended  masses  of  the  spectators,  they 
are  like  solitary  rocks  torn  from  the 
shore  and  washed  by  the  sea.  Though 
with  the  spectator  in  his  familiar  sur- 
roundings of  a  theatre,  they  yet  rise 
above  him,  wrought  into  independent 
beings  and  endowed  with  some  inner  power 
that  draws  them  closer  to  each  other  or 
drives  apart.  Even  when  they  present 
ordinary  men  they  seem  to  ennoble  them, 


156     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

to  bestow  upon  them  some  grace  of 
divinity. 

To  what  an  extent  these  visual  im- 
pressions must  have  fitted  in  with  the 
ideal  character  of  the  Greek  drama,  and 
its  style  of  acting  will  be  seen  from  the 
following  illuminating  remarks  by  A.  E. 
Haigh  in  his  book  quoted  above  : 

"  The  world  of  Greek  tragedy  was  an 
ideal  world  of  heroes  and  demigods,  whose 
nature  was  grander  and  nobler  than  that 
of  human  beings.  The  realistic  portrayal 
of  ordinary  human  passions  was  foreign 
to  the  purpose  of  the  Greek  tragedy.  .  .  • 
To  be  in  harmony  with  this  elevation  of 
tone  it  was  necessary  that  the  acting 
should  be  dignified  and  self-restrained. 
Violent  movements  were  usually  avoided. 
A  certain  statuesque  simplicity  and  grace- 
fulness of  pose  accompanied  the  gestures 
of  the  tragic  actor.  On  the  long  and 
narrow  stage  the  figures  were  arranged  in 
picturesque  and  striking  groups,  and  the 
successive  scenes  in  the  play  presented 
to  the  eye  of  the  spectator  a  series  of 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     157 

artistic  tableaux.  The  representations  of 
tragic  scenes  and  personages  in  ancient 
works  of  art  are  characterized  by  a  dignity 
and  a  repose  which  call  to  mind  the 
creations  of  the  scuptor."  ("  The  Attic 
Theatre,"  p.  277.) 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  well  illustrating  the 
suggestive  power  of  form  on  the  stage, 
that  the  method  of  statuesque  staging, 
when  applied  in  the  Russian  theatre  by 
Meyerhold,  provided  a  starting  point  for 
an  attempted  revival  of  the  Greek  tradi- 
tions. In  this  case,  however,  the  detached 
and  statuesque  actor  was  believed  to  be 
able  to  bridge  the  barrier  dividing  the 
world  of  the  play  from  the  world  of  the 
audience,  and  so  to  establish  the  unity 
of  action  which  characterized  the  early 
Greek  theatre.  The  mistake  of  Meyerhold 
and  his  followers  was  in  confusing  the 
early  forms  of  the  Greek  drama,  in  which 
the  unity  was  achieved  by  the  identity 
of  the  performance  with  the  actual 
(religious)  life  of  the  spectator,  with  the 
later  forms,  in  which  the  spectator  was 


158     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

already  divorced  from  the  performer, 
though  united  with  him  in  the  reality  of 
theatrical  life. 

In  this  latter  unity  the  statuesque  form 
of  staging  doubtless  played  an  important 
part,  though  in  the  Greek  theatre,  owing 
to  its  peculiar  architectural  construction, 
in  a  lesser  degree,  perhaps,  than  in 
other  theatres  of  presentation,  such  as 
the  Mediaeval  processional  "  pageant  "  and 
the  Elizabethan  theatre. 

We  know  of  two  forms,  the  stationary 
and  the  processional,  in  which  miracles 
and  moralities  were  produced  in  England 
during  the  Middle  Ages.  Though  closely 
related  by  their  common  origin  from  the 
liturgical  play,  and,  possibly,  by  the  fact 
that  the  same  actors  may  have  performed 
in  both,  I  think,  the  stationery  and  the 
processional  forms  must  have  differed 
much  more  widely  than  this  is  suggested 
by  their  modern  titles. 

Leaving  the  discussion  of  this  difference 
until  a  later  stage  of  my  examination  of 
theatrical  forms,  I  will  only  remark  that 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     159 

in  the  stationary  method  of  production 
the  performance  was  more  of  the  represen- 
tational nature,  whilst  in  the  processional 
pageant  it  was  distinctly  presentational. 
The  element  of  the  processional  perform- 
ance was  a  waggon  which  carried  a 
platform  and  a  booth.  As  the  action  in 
miracles  demanded  numerous  localized  set- 
tings, a  number  of  waggons,  with  separate 
companies  of  actors  in  each,  was  used  to 
present  successively  the  various  moments 
of  the  story.  In  Chester,  York,  Lincoln 
and  other  places,  where  these  per- 
formances were  organized  by  the  town 
authorities,  the  waggons  passed  from 
one  street  to  another,  repeating  at  each 
"  station  "  their  particular  episode  of  the 
play.  Scaffolds,  possibly  movable,  were 
occasionally  set  up  when  an  additional 
platform  was  required  to  distinguish  one 
place  of  action  from  another  within  a 
single  episode,  but  as  a  rule  performance 
was  confined  to  the  waggon.  Some  sort 
of  seating  accommodation  was,  apparently, 
provided  at  the  main  "  station,"  where 


160     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  Mayor  and  other  officials  watched 
the  spectacle,  but  it  stands  to  reason  that, 
with  the  waggons  passing  from  street  to 
street,  in  most  cases  the  people  had  to 
range  themselves  round  the  waggon. 

If  we  now  picture  to  ourselves  the 
actual  conditions  of  these  performances, 
we  shall  have  to  admit  that  it  would  be 
difficult  to  imagine  anything  less  suitable 
for  producing  effects  of  the  representational, 
i.e.  illusionistic  character.  The  waggon 
stood  in  the  midst  of  real  houses,  and 
was  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  spectators. 
The  semblance  of  a  building  on  the  waggon, 
with  scanty  properties  inside  it  and  on 
the  platform  in  front,  was  barely  sufficient 
to  indicate  the  place  of  the  action,  and 
could  not  possibly  transform  the  stage 
into  something  complete  in  itself,  a  world 
of  its  own,  as  it  were.  Added  to  this, 
there  was  the  bridging  effect  of  the 
playing  of  actors,  whose  clear-cut  figures 
on  a  bare  platform  made  them  look  as 
if  they  had  just  jumped  thereon  from  the 
watching  crowd,  whilst  the  necessity  of 


v: 

W 

5 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     161 

conveying  the  story  by  means  only  of 
their  own  acting,  compelled  them  to 
explain  and  present  the  play  to  the  spec- 
tator, and  thus  maintain  an  uninterrupted 
contact  between  him  and  the  stage.  In  fine, 
the  natural  surroundings,  the  closeness  of 
the  audience,  the  simplicity  and  conven- 
tionalism of  setting,  and  the  prominence 
of  the  actor,  all  combined  to  produce  the 
effect  of  a  frank  theatrical  display,  which 
excluded  the  very  possibility  of  a  barrier 
dividing  the  performance  from  the  real 
world  in  which  the  audience  lived.  In 
considering  the  pageant  play  there  is  even 
no  need  to  take  it  in  the  processional 
form  described  above.  Single  waggon 
performances  were  much  more  frequent 
than  processional  cycles,  and  formed  the 
principal  unit  of  the  Mediaeval  English 
theatre.  Their  greater  popularity  also 
explains  the  fact  that  the  Elizabethan 
theatre  was  modelled  on  the  lines  of  the 
single  pageant  stage  as  that  appeared  in 
inns  and  courtyards,  and  not  on  those 
of  the  processional  play,  much  less  so  of 


162      THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  stationary  one  with  its  distinct  repre- 
sentational character. 

Our  knowledge  of  the  Elizabethan  stage 
is  mostly  conjectural,  and  there  is  still 
a  great  divergence  of  opinion  as  to  its 
precise  construction  and  working.  Its 
main  features,  however,  have  been  made 
sufficiently  clear.  In  the  Globe,  the 
Fortune,  and  a  few  other  theatres  of 
which  we  have  reliable  information,  the 
stage  building  was  not  concealed  behind 
the  proscenium  arch  as  we  see  it  in  the 
modern  theatre,  but  was  clearly  in  the 
sight  of  the  audience,  forming  an  integral 
part  of  the  theatre  building  as  a  whole. 
The  stage  platform  (the  "  apron "  stage, 
as  it  has  been  called  since)  extended 
some  twenty  feet  into  the  auditorium, 
and  at  its  farthest  end  had  a  shallow 
recess  which,  most  probably,  was  divided 
from  the  outer  platform  by  a  curtain. 

Without  going  into  arguments  upon 
the  use  of  the  method  of  presentation  on 
the  Elizabethan  stage,  since  this  use  is 
universally  admitted,  I  will  only  try  to 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     163 

indicate  the  connection  which  existed  be- 
tween this  method  and  the  position  of 
the  spectator.  Too  much  importance,  it 
seems  to  me,  is  being  attached  to  the 
conventional  character  of  the  Elizabethan 
setting.  Some  authors  explain  this  con- 
ventionalism by  the  extraordinary  power 
of  imagination,  which  they  believe  the 
Shakespearian  audience  possessed  and 
had  to  exercise  in  cases  of  extreme  incon- 
gruity in  the  properties  on  the  stage. 
Whether  this  incongruity,  as,  for  instance, 
the  presence  of  trees  in  the  place  which 
was  supposed  to  represent  a  room,  did 
actually  exist,  is  a  matter  of  argument 
and  conjecture.  But  the  important  point 
is  that  even  a  greater  fidelity  to  realism 
in  setting  would  not  have  destroyed  the 
fundamental  convention  which  lay  at 
the  basis  of  the  Elizabethan  stage.  This 
"  convention "  was  the  reality  of  per- 
formance as  performance,  and  it  rested 
not  on  any  power  of  imagination,  but  on 
its  exact  opposite — the  sense  of  actuality. 
What  matter,  whether  the  location  and 


164     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

character  of  the  scene  were  indicated  by 
announcements  on  sign-boards,  or  were 
suggested  more  directly  by  realistic  pro- 
perties on  the  inner  stage  ?  The  fact 
that  these  properties  were  just  stage 
properties  and  nothing  else,  was  too 
patent  to  permit  of  any  illusions  as  to 
what  was  proceeding  on  the  stage.  Indeed, 
we  should  be  doing  injustice  to  the 
intelligence  of  the  Elizabethan  audiences 
if  we  thought  them  capable  of  enter- 
taining such  illusions  in  the  face  of  reality 
which  clearly  contradicted  them.  One  of 
the  constituents  of  that  reality,  the 
architectural  unity  of  the  stage  with  the 
rest  of  the  theatre  building,  has  already 
been  noticed.  The  other  constituent,  con- 
sequent upon  the  former,  was  no  less 
decisive  in  its  bearing  on  the  effect  of 
performance.  It  should  be  remembered 
that  the  essential  condition  of  every  kind 
of  illusionism  is  the  existence  of  a  dis- 
tinctive atmosphere  enveloping  the  world 
of  the  play.  But  in  the  Elizabethan 
theatre  the  atmosphere  permeating  the 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     165 

stage  was  that  of  the  auditorium,  and 
not  of  the  play,  since  most  of  the  action 
took  place  on  the  unpropertied  outer 
stage,  projected  far  into  the  yard,  whilst 
the  properties  on  the  inner  stage  formed 
merely  a  background  standing  by  itself 
and  detached  from  the  actor.  The  latter, 
therefore,  was  necessarily  seen  in  the 
statuesque  guise,  which  further  contributed 
to  the  theatrical  unity  of  the  audience 
and  the  performer,  just  as  a  group  of  men, 
each  one  distinct  and  independent,  would 
feel  themselves  united  on  a  common 
ground  when  brought  together  in  familiar 
surroundings.  The  bridging  effect  of  the 
undisguised  "  theatrical  ground  "  should 
not,  however,  be  confused  with  the 
complete  fusion  of  the  spectator,  the 
actor,  and  the  play  in  one  continuous 
world  of  action.  The  same  statuesque 
appearance  of  the  actor,  which  by  its 
realism  contributed  to  the  theatrical  unity, 
also  served  to  emphasize  the  essential 
difference  between  the  actor  and  the 
spectator.  The  part  of  the  former  was 


166     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

to  act,  and  of  the  latter  to  look  on.  The 
distance  which  divided  the  two  and  deter- 
mined the  statuesque  effect,  ensured  this 
distribution  of  parts  by  keeping  always 
clear  before  the  mind  of  the  spectator  his 
distinctiveness  from,  and  opposition  to,  the 
personality  of  the  actor. 

It  would  be  beyond  the  scope  of  the 
present  cursory  review  were  I  to  enter 
into  discussion  of  further  characteristics 
of  the  Elizabethan,  and  particularly  the 
Shakespearian,  stage.  The  problem  of 
presentation  of  character,  as  distinct 
from  presentation  of  situation,  seems  to  be 
particularly  engaging,  but  I  have  to  leave 
it  until  another  opportunity  may  occur. 
I  must  adopt  the  same  course  also  with 
regard  to  the  early  forms  of  the  theatres 
in  Italy,  Spain,  and  France,  in  this  case 
mainly  for  the  reason  that  my  knowledge 
of  the  actual  conditions  of  performances  in 
those  national  theatres  is  too  deficient  to 
permit  of  my  embarking  on  so  serious  a 
task  as  construing  up  the  visual  impres- 
sions of  their  audiences. 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     167 

The  forms  of  unity  between  the  audience 
and  the  performance,  which  have  been 
examined  so  far,  may  be  classed  in  two 
groups  which  are  related  by  one  common 
feature — the  identity  of  the  performance 
with  the  real  life  of  the  audience.  When 
the  performance  was  a  part  of  the  religious 
life  of  the  audience,  as  in  the  early  Greek 
theatre  and,  probably,  in  the  church 
mystery-plays,  the  unity  between  the 
world  of  the  play  enacted  and  that  of 
the  audience  was  complete,  and  spectator 
and  actor  were  fused  in  one  person.  As 
the  theatre  freed  itself  from  its  bond  with 
religion,  the  reality  of  the  theatre  as  a 
place  for  performing  asserted  itself  ever 
more  strongly,  leading  to  a  division  between 
the  actor  and  the  spectator.  We  had 
examples  of  this  '  theatrical  "  form  of 
real  life  in  the  classical  Greek  theatre, 
the  Mediaeval  processional  pageant,  and 
the  Elizabethan  theatre.  I  now  have  to 
refer  to  the  third  form  of  unity  :  the 
unity  in  make-believe,  in  illusion. 

It  is  a  characteristic  fact  that  the  idea 


i68     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

of  this  kind  of  unity  is  entirely  modern 
in  its  origin.  The  ancient  theatres  never 
occupied  themselves  with  the  problem  of 
bridging  the  stage  and  the  auditorium, 
as  these  were  bridged  in  the  very  forms 
of  their  architectural  construction.  Only 
since  a  barrier  was  raised  between  the 
spectator  and  the  actor  by  the  intro- 
duction of  the  Italian  picture-frame  stage, 
did  the  loss  of  the  former  unity  begin  to 
be  felt  with  an  ever-increasing  force.  It 
was  natural  that  in  the  theatre  so  divided 
solution  was  sought  in  various  devices 
capable  of  disguising  the  fundamental  parti- 
tion. Three  methods  have  suggested  them- 
selves to  the  producer  :  (i)  the  audience 
and  the  performance  could  be  united 
above  the  theatre,  as  it  were,  by  creating 
an  illusion  of  another  world  temporarily 
holding  sway  within  the  theatrical  walls  ; 
(2)  they  could  be  joined  in  the  auditorium 
by  bringing  the  actors  over  the  stage  to 
act  amongst  the  audience ;  (3)  lastly,  they 
could  be  brought  together  on  the  stage  by 
gulling  the  spectator  into  a  belief  that  he 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     169 

himself  was  living  in  the  world  of  the  play. 
These  methods  have  been  best  illustrated 
by  Meyerhold's  stagings  on  one  plane,  Rein- 
hardt's  productions  in  amphitheatres,  and 
Evreinov's  monodrama.  As  regards  the 
Russian  experiments,  they  are  dealt  with 
at  length  in  the  essay  on  the  Russian 
stage,  so  that  only  a  few  further  remarks 
need  be  made  here. 

In  Meyerhold's  productions  the  stage 
as  an  independent  reality  ceased  to  exist. 
The  flat  background  close  to  the  foot- 
lights and  the  grouping  of  actors  in  a 
line  tended  to  destroy  the  materialistic 
appearance  of  objects  and  transformed 
the  stage  into  a  world  of  visionary  images. 
In  this  world  continuity  reigned  supreme, 
linking  and  tying  all  the  objects  in  one 
span  of  space.  Facing  it  in  the  darkened 
hall  of  the  theatre  was  the  audience, 
which  could  see  but  little  around  itself 
to  provide  a  realistic  contrast  and  so 
confine  the  spiritualized  images  to  a  fixed 
location  in  the  building.  With  their 
imagination  aroused  and  their  eyes  riveted 


170     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

on  the  flat  scenic  world,  the  spectators 
were  no  longer  capable  of  maintaining 
their  attitude  of  mere  onlookers.  The 
sense  of  continuity  between  themselves 
and  the  images  in  front  of  them  was 
bound  to  arise.  And  so  the  stage  and 
the  audience  became  blended  in  the 
visionary  world  which  seemed  to  lift  them 
above  the  reality  of  their  theatrical 
existence. 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  this  form  of 
staging  the  play  is  not  presented  in  the 
conditions  of  theatrical  reality,  but  is 
represented  to  the  point  of  complete 
illusion.  The  spectator  is  united  both 
with  the  performance  as  a  whole,  and 
the  performer  as  its  constituent  part. 
Not  that  this  effect  was  always  or  com- 
pletely achieved  in  Meyerhold's  produc- 
tions (the  obstacles  of  the  theatrical 
reality  made  this  well-nigh  impossible), 
but  the  method  did  carry  in  itself  the 
possibility  of  its  realization,  and  from 
the  point  of  view  assumed  in  this  study, 
I  think,  I  shall  be  justified  in  classing 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     171 

Meyerhold's  method  as  a  characteristic 
form  of  theatrical  unity  in  terms  of  sub- 
jective representation. 

From  flat  decorative  scenery,  through 
statuesque  isolation,  to  congregate  action 
in  the  orchestra — such  was  the  line  of  de- 
velopment along  which  Meyerhold  was 
proceeding  during  the  first  period  of  his 
work.  He  had  hardly  approached  its  last 
stage,  however,  when  he  turned  off  to  the 
method  of  presentation,  endeavouring  to 
obtain  unity  in  the  undisguised  fact  of 
a  theatrical  spectacle  rather  than  in 
elaborate  attempts  at  substituting  for  the 
reality  of  a  theatre  an  illusion  of  some 
other  reality.  But  the  thread  of  repre- 
sentational unity  left  off  by  Meyerhold 
was  taken  up  by  Reinhardt,  who  carried 
it  further,  exploring  new  avenues  in  the 
theatrical  realm  and  obtaining  results  of 
abiding  interest. 

The  original  contribution  made  by  Rein- 
hardt to  the  modern  development  of  the 
theatre  is  confined  mainly  to  those  of  his 
productions  in  which  he  attempted  to  do 


172     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

away  with  the  stage  and  thus  establish  a 
more  intimate  contact  between  the  actor 
and  the  audience.  But  interesting  as  his 
staging  of  "  Oedipus  Rex "  and  "  The 
Miracle  "  were,  they  clearly  showed  that 
Reinhardt  himself  had  a  somewhat  con- 
fused idea  of  the  dramatic  effect  he  was 
striving  to  realize.  With  Reinhardt,  as 
with  Meyerhold,  the  starting  point  for  the 
new  departure  was  provided  by  the  con- 
ception of  the  Greek  orchestra.  It  seems 
that  in  the  opinion  of  Reinhardt  the  in- 
timate atmosphere  which  pervaded  the 
Greek  theatre  was  produced  by  bringing  the 
performer  and  the  spectator  into  a  direct, 
indeed,  into  an  almost  physical,  contact. 
Hence  it  followed,  that  given  the  same  con- 
tact in  the  modern  theatre,  the  audience  and 
the  play  would  be  immediately  united.  This 
condition  of  unity,  Reinhardt  believed,  he 
had  found  in  transferring  the  acting  from 
the  stage  to  the  arena  of  a  circus. 

Now,  to  appreciate  the  actual  effect  he 
was  able  to  produce  by  this  shifting  of  the 
stage,  we  have  to  consider  the  theatrical 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     173 

elements  which  were  involved  in  his  ex- 
periment. 

To  begin  with  the  idea  of  unity  as  realized 
in  the  Greek  theatre,  we  find  Reinhardt 
basing  himself  on  a  conception  which, 
as  I  have  shown  earlier,  is  essentially 
wrong.  Of  the  two  forms  evolved  by  the 
Greeks,  the  unity  of  actual  life  (the  theatre 
of  action),  and  the  unity  of  theatrical  life 
(the  theatre  of  presentation),  he  apparently 
admitted  only  the  first.  But  in  inter- 
preting it  he  again  failed  to  grasp  the 
central  fact  that  this  unity  was  achieved 
not  so  much  by  the  contact  of  the  performer 
with  the  audience,  as  by  the  fundamental 
identity  of  the  subject  of  the  play  and  the 
performance  itself,  with  the  religious  life 
of  the  spectator.  It  follows,  therefore, 
that  complete  intimacy  could  be  restored 
to  the  theatre  only  by  making  performance 
a  part  of  general  religious  ritual.  But 
as  the  character  of  religious  actuality  was 
never  evident  in  Reinhardt's  productions 
(nor  could  it  in  all  justice  be  expected  to 
be  found  there) ,  the  result  was  that  the  gap 


174     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

between  the  actor  and  the  spectator  was 
bridged  by  him  more  in  appearance  than 
in  reality.  To  find  some  common  ground 
on  which  the  desired  union  could  be  effected, 
Reinhardt  had  to  resort  to  illusionism,  sub- 
stituting for  the  plane  of  religious  actuality, 
in  which  the  audience  and  the  actors  of  the 
early  Greek  theatre  freely  and  naturally 
came  into  contact,  the  plane  of  an  illusory 
world  represented  by  scenery  and  acting  in 
such  a  way  as  to  induce  the  spectator  to 
believe  that  he  himself  formed  a  part  of 
that  world.  This  characteristic  basis  of 
Reinhardt's  method  is  in  itself  a  striking 
proof  of  the  sterile  and  decadent  nature  of 
all  such  attempts  at  whipping  up  enfeebled 
emotion  by  administering  powerful  doses 
of  an  illusionary  stimulant. 

The  above  remarks  indicate  the  points 
of  difference  between  the  Greek  theatre 
and  Reinhardt's  productions.  But  dramatic 
effects  must  be  appraised  independently  of 
their  ties  with  the  past,  and  the  effect  of 
unity  obtained  by  Reinhardt  is  fully  entitled 
to  be  discussed  on  its  own  merits. 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     175 

In  Reinhardt's  productions  the  spectator 
is  placed  in  a  direct  contact  with  the  per- 
formers, and  this  causes  him  to  be  drawn  into 
the  atmosphere  of  the  play.  The  union  is 
effected  in  two  forms  :  first,  by  leaving  the 
spectator  in  the  position  of  a  mere  observer, 
which  is  the  main  form,  and  second,  by 
bringing  him  almost  to  the  verge  of  acting. 
When  merely  observing  the  action  of  the 
play,  Reinhardt's  spectator  can  be  likened 
to  a  member  of  a  crowd  watching  a  street 
accident.  As  in  the  latter  case,  he  is  clearly 
conscious  of  opposition  between  himself  and 
the  actual  heroes  of  the  scene  observed. 
But  whereas  in  the  street  crowd  the  onlooker 
is  face  to  face  with  real  life,  in  a  Rein- 
hardt's performance  the  world  of  the  play 
remains  imaginary,  whilst  the  spectator  is 
transformed  into  a  member  of  a  real  crowd 
living  in  that  world  and  witnessing  the 
events  there  proceeding.  The  effect  of 
unity  in  this  case  is,  therefore,  based  not 
so  much  on  an  illusion  of  reality  of  the  play 
enacted,  as,  if  I  may  say  so,  on  an  illusion 
of  "  reality  of  onlooking."  This  circum- 


176     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

stance  serves  to  explain  the  use  of  the 
second  means  employed  by  Reinhardt  in 
bridging  the  actors  and  the  audience.  The 
reality  of  his  being  an  onlooker  in  a  crowd 
is  brought  to  the  mind  of  the  spectator 
by  the  scenic  transformation  of  the  audi- 
torium into  a  part  of  the  general  setting. 
After  what -had  been  said  before  on  the 
significance  of  various  perceptions  of  space, 
there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  understanding 
the  suggestive  power  which  both  these 
means  bring  to  bear  on  the  spectator. 
Thus,  the  first  element  in  the  impression 
of  unity  is  contributed  by  the  fused  masses 
of  spectators  in  the  amphitheatre.  The 
architectural  unity  of  the  latter  with  the 
arena,  made  manifest  by  the  setting,  sup- 
plies another  link.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  detached  figures  of  the  performers, 
together  with  the  marked  forms  of  the 
architectural  scenery  both  in  the  arena  and 
the  auditorium,  qualify  the  elements  of 
unity  as  those  operating  within  a  realistic, 
i.e.,  objectively  present  and  inwardly  dis- 
continuous world.  The  last  qualification, 


3 

1 

£X 


U 

w 


— 
ffi 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     177 

however,  is  apt  to  lose  much  of  its  restric- 
tive force  in  the  case  of  those  scenes  in  which 
the  arena  itself  becomes  crowded  with 
performers.  The  continuity  of  the  amphi- 
theatre is  then  extended  from  end  to  end 
of  the  theatrical  building,  and  the  audience, 
drawn  into  the  whirl  of  action  on  the  arena, 
is  lifted,  so  to  speak,  to  the  state  of  "  poten- 
tial actors,"  which  brings  the  performance 
almost  to  the  verge  of  the  theatre  of  action. 
That  this  limit  is  never  crossed  in  Rein- 
hardt's  productions,  as  it  was  in  the  early 
period  of  the  Greek  orchestra,  and  that 
the  potential  actor  fails  to  convert  his 
worked  up  energy  into  a  kinetic  action, 
is  entirely  due  to  the  inner  contradiction  of 
Reinhardt's  method,  which  is  hidden  in 
its  substitution  of  make-belief  emotionalism 
for  the  religious  actuality  characteristic 
of  the  true  theatre  of  action. 

The  illusion  of  unity  which  Everemov 
set  out  to  attain  by  means  of  his  "  mono- 
drama  "  is  of  a  somewhat  different  nature. 
It  is  suggested  that  by  representing  the 
subjective  experiences  of  the  leading 

M 


178      THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

character,  styled  "  Ego "  (which,  by  the 
way,  would  mean  his  continuous  presence 
on  the  stage,  and  would,  therefore,  con- 
siderably restrict  the  choice  of  subjects 
admitting  of  such  treatment),  the  spec- 
tator will  be  led  to  identify  himself 
with  his  actions  and  feelings,  and  so 
will  be,  as  it  were,  transferred  bodily 
on  to  the  stage.  Granting  that  this 
effect  can  be  obtained  (and,  personally, 
I  incline  to  doubt  such  possibility),  the 
world  of  the  play,  which  will  be  facing 
the  spectator,  will  be  either  opposed  to 
him  in  its  elements,  i.e.  discontinuous, 
or  embracing  him  in  its  unity,  i.e.  con- 
tinuous. Accordingly,  the  staging  will  be 
either  extending  in  depth,  or  it  will  be  flat. 
But  here  we  come  to  the  forms  of  space  on 
the  stage,  which  are  imbued  with  their 
own  significance  and  are  bound  to  influence 
the  premissed  unity  with  the  play.  How 
Evreinov  proposes  to  deal  with  them  I  do 
not  know,  but  it  is  clear  that  the  possible 
combinations  may  contain  a  number  of 
counter-effects  neutralizing  one  another, 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     179 

and  to  try  and  analyse  them  here  on  mere 
hypothetical  grounds  would  be  a  thankless 
and  unprofitable  task. 

In  the  forms  of  the  theatre  so  far  re- 
viewed the  world  of  the  spectator  and 
that  of  the  play  were  brought  into  unity 
either  by  bringing  the  play  down  into 
the  actual  life  of  the  spectator,  or  by 
lifting  the  latter  up  into  the  illusory 
reality  of  the  play.  The  history  of  the 
theatre  shows,  however,  a  number  of 
forms  which  aimed  at  attaining  the  exactly 
opposite  effect.  The  world  of  the  play 
was  set  off  as  a  thing  complete  in  itself, 
whilst  the  spectator  was  kept  rigorously 
outside  as  a  mere  onlooker  who  chanced 
to  be  present  during  the  progress  of  events 
on  the  stage.  It  may  be  said  that  only 
in  the  modern  theatre  has  this  method 
of  representation  found  its  complete 
realization,  but  the  tendency  in  this 
direction  was  manifest  throughout  history. 
Its  earliest  indications  can  be  traced 
in  the  Roman  theatre  which,  though 
based  on  the  theatre  of  the  Greeks,  soon 


i8o     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

departed  from  their  traditions.  The 
changes  introduced  by  the  Romans  in 
the  theatre  construction  have  already 
been  mentioned.  The  orchestra  was 
reduced  in  size  and  was  used  to  accom- 
modate spectators.  The  stage,  now 
brought  nearer  to  the  audience,  was 
enlarged  and  lowered  ;  it  had  a  roof  and 
a  front  curtain  (whether  either  of  these 
was  present  in  the  Greek  theatre  is  still 
a  matter  of  guess-work),  and,  altogether, 
gained  in  prominence  and  completeness. 
These  constructional  changes,  though 
unable  to  destroy  the  architectural  unity 
of  the  theatre  building  entirely,  must, 
doubtless,  have  considerably  weakened  it 
and,  coupled  with  elaborate  and  realistic 
settings,  were  bound  to  tell  in  the  general 
effect  of  dramatic  performance.  At  all 
events,  the  features  here  described  provide 
sufficient  evidence  of  a  pronounced  tendency 
towards  representation  that  marked  the 
Roman  stage. 

Another  early  example  of  this  method 
I  see  in  the  Mediaeval  stationary  play.     It 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     181 

was  performed  in  a  ring  arranged,  it  is 
believed,  in  the  same  way  as  the  preserved 
Cornish  rounds.  The  audience  was  seated 
in  a  narrow  amphitheatre,  or  simply  on 
the  ground,  whilst  in  the  round  itself 
there  were  set  up  a  number  of  scaffolds 
standing  for  various  buildings  and 
localities.  As  the  plot  of  the  miracle  was 
unfolded,  the  action  passed  from  one 
place  in  the  ring  to  another,  being  per- 
formed on  the  scaffolds  when  properties 
were  required  to  specify  the  action,  and 
on  the  ground  when  no  such  specification 
seemed  necessary. 

In  studying  the  nature  of  the  stationary 
performance  we  are,  at  the  outset,  able 
to  draw  some  interesting  inferences  from 
the  fact  that  it  originated  from  the 
liturgical  play.  In  church  mysteries  and 
miracles,  just  as  in  the  early  Dionysian 
festivals,  the  moment  of  "  spectacle " 
was  practically  absent.  The  play  formed 
part  and  parcel  of  religious  ritual  and 
was  looked  upon  as  completely  real  in 
itself.  Only  gradually,  mainly  owing  to 


182     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  presence  of  comical  scenes,  the 
liturgical  play  assumed  the  character  of 
a  show,  and  it  was  then  that  it  passed 
to  the  market-place.  The  spectator  and 
the  actor  became  clearly  separated,  but 
the  play  itself  still  retained  its  religious 
atmosphere  and  still  formed  a  world 
distinct  from  ordinary  life.  When  miracles 
began  to  be  produced  in  rounds,  the 
church  arrangement  of  acting  in  sedes 
and  plateae  was  faithfully  reproduced  in 
the  method  of  acting  on  scaffolds  and 
the  ground.1  So,  what  in  church  was  a 
part  of  the  general  ritual,  in  which  all 
those  present  took  an  intimate  part,  here 
in  the  round  became  a  world  in  itself 
clearly  detached  from  the  world  of  the 
audience.  This  point  will  be  made  even 
more  evident  if  we  take  into  consideration 
that  the  stage,  i.e.  the  ring,  had  no  points 
of  contact  with  the  audience,  either  as 
a  part  of  one  architectural  whole,  or  as 
an  arena  the  theatrical  nature  of  which 
would  need  no  demonstration. 

1  Cf.  Chambers'  "  The  Medieval  Stage,"  v.  ii.  p.  136. 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     183 

On  the  contrary,  it  was  clearly  marked 
off  against  the  auditorium,  which  was 
practically  neutral,  as  a  place  complete 
in  itself  and  entirely  bound  up  with  the 
world  of  the  play.  The  degree  of 
illusionism  possible  in  the  stationary 
performances  is,  of  course,  not  to  be 
compared  with  the  achievements  of  the 
modern  stage,  but  it  was  sufficient  to 
draw  a  line  dividing  the  play  and  the 
audience.  Even  the  conventional  setting, 
which  in  the  pageant  play,  by  contrast 
with  realistic  surroundings,  helped  to 
produce  the  effect  of  a  set-up  show,  must 
have  appeared  here  as  a  consistent  and 
real  representation  of  some  strange  world. 
As  against  this,  there  must  be  admitted 
that  the  method  of  acting  tended  in  the 
opposite  direction,  the  prologue  and  the 
addresses  to  the  audience  creating  a  link 
where  the  form  of  the  stage  enforced  a 
division.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be  said 
that  performances  in  the  rounds  were 
completely  representational,  but  the  pres- 
ence in  them  of  the  latter  element  seems 


184     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

to  have  been  markedly  evident,  whilst  in 
the  pageant  performances  representation 
was  entirely  absent.  It  should  only  be 
added,  in  order  to  complete  the  character- 
istic of  the  stationary  play,  that  opposed 
though  the  ring,  with  its  play-atmosphere, 
was  to  the  audience,  within  itself  it  pre- 
sented a  picture  of  a  fragmentary  world 
which  greatly  differed  from  the  continuous, 
fusing  atmosphere  which  enveloped  per- 
formers in  the  church  mysteries.  Accord- 
ingly the  audience  watching  the  stationary 
play  was  being  induced  to  take  up  the 
attitude  of  mere  observation,  whilst  in 
the  church  the  continuous  unity  amongst 
the  actors  tended  to  spread  to  the 
spectators  and  draw  them  into  the  per- 
formance. 

With  this  I  will  take  leave  of  history 
and  pass  to  the  forms  which  the  desire 
of  keeping  the  stage  completely  self-suffi- 
cient has  assumed  in  our  own  time.  Their 
best  illustration  will  again  be  found  in 
Russia  where  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre 
has  been  able  to  attain  the  heights  of  re- 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     185 

presentation  never  reached  in  any  other 
country.  Without  needlessly  repeating 
what  has  been  stated  elsewhere  I  will  only 
try  to  answer  the  following  two  questions  : 
(i)  How  does  the  spectator  in  the  Art 
Theatre  stand  with  relation  to  the  play  as 
a  whole,  and  (2)  with  relation  to  the  in- 
dividual elements  that  form  that  whole  ? 

The  Italian  picture-frame  stage  had 
already  provided  the  Art  Theatre  with  the 
initial  division  between  the  stage  and 
the  auditorium.  But  before  the  advent  of 
naturalism  the  conventional  scenery  and 
the  lime-light  conspicuousness  of  leading 
characters  were  still  able  to  maintain  a 
certain  link  with  the  audience.  It  was 
necessary,  therefore,  to  sweep  away  the 
old  traditions  in  setting,  and  to  impart 
unity  and  atmosphere  to  the  acting,  in 
order  that  the  play  on  the  stage  should 
be  facing  the  spectator  as  an  independent 
whole  existing  in  accordance  with  its  own 
laws.  The  naturalistic  method  employed 
by  the  Art  Theatre  supplied  the  means  for 
realizing  the  first  object.  Step  by  step, 


i86     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

starting  with  faithful  reproduction  of 
realistic  details,  the  Art  Theatre  concluded 
by  abolishing  the  footlights  and  intro- 
ducing the  so-called  "  fourth  wall." 
Similarly,  in  the  way  of  acting,  the 
characters  were  jealously  kept  within  the 
strict  boundaries  imposed  by  the  tone 
and  atmosphere  of  the  play.  Ensemble 
became  the  watchword,  and  nothing  was 
considered  so  offensive  as  the  position  of  a 
figure  pushed  out  to  the  front  and  torn 
from  its  naturalistic  background.  It  is 
interesting  to  note  that  during  its  initial 
period  of  development  the  Art  Theatre 
endeavoured  to  obtain  unity  on  the  stage 
by  the  somewhat  mechanical  means  of 
overcrowding  the  scenes  whenever  there 
was  the  slightest  opportunity.  It  was 
for  this  reason,  it  seems  to  me,  that  mass 
scenes  were  at  first  so  popular  with  the 
Art  Theatre.  They  helped  to  fill  the 
stage  and  join  together  its  otherwise 
scattered  elements.  When,  later  on,  as 
in  Chekhov's  plays,  more  subtle  means  of 
creating  a  tone  were  worked  out,  the 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     187 

Art  Theatre  began  to  admit,  in  an  ever 
growing  degree,  a  certain  disjunction  of 
characters,  a  discontinuity  which  eventu- 
ally brought  it  to  the  method  of  staging 
so  characteristically  marked  in  its  produc- 
tion of  "  The  Inspector-General."  Here 
the  characters  acquired  a  sculpturesque 
relief  which  seemed  to  expand  the  stage 
and  transform  each  figure  into  a  world  in 
itself. 

The  two  questions  formulated  above  can 
now  be  answered  thus  :  (i)  the  spectator 
in  the  Art  Theatre  stands  opposed  to 
the  play  which  is  represented  as  a  world 
objectively  given  and  entirely  determined 
by  its  own  laws  ;  (2)  the  unity  of  this 
world  is  that  of  tone  and  atmosphere, 
whilst  within  it  shows  a  marked  tendency 
towards  subdivision  and  discontinuity. 

With  equal  force  the  last  definitions 
may  be  applied  to  realism  in  general. 
What  distinguishes  the  realistic  method 
from  every  other  method  is  not  so  much 
its  fidelity  to  nature,  as  its  striving  to 
produce  the  illusion  of  an  objective  world 


i88     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

opposed  to  the  spectator  and  inwardly 
spilt  up  into  innumerable  self-centred 
entities. 

As  objective  existence  on  the  stage  is 
conceivable  only  in  terms  of  naturalism, 
every  other  form  of  illusionism  must,  of 
necessity,  be  subjective,  i.e.  it  must  in- 
voke the  spectator's  power  of  imagination. 
Subjectivism,  therefore,  implies  a  certain 
intimate  contact  between  the  stage  and  the 
audience  and,  as  has  been  demonstrated 
in  the  case  of  Meyerhold's,  Evreinov's 
and  Reinhardt's  productions,  actually  leads 
to  various  forms  of  unity.  One  can  con- 
ceive, however,  of  a  form  of  subjective 
representation  which  would  be  based  on 
the  perception  of  discontinuity.  This  would 
happen  in  a  case  in  which  the  nature 
of  the  symbolical  realities,  subjectively 
realized  on  the  stage,  would  demand  an 
observing  or  contemplative  attitude  on 
the  part  of  the  spectator.  Just  as  in  real 
life,  so  in  the  world  of  our  visions  we  can 
assert  our  inner  self  against  the  realities 
which  are  revealed  to  our  spirit.  We 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     189 

mentally  embrace  and  encompass  the 
realm  in  which  they  abide,  and  in  so  far 
they  are  part  of  ourselves,  but  we  project 
them  outward  and  hold  them  up  before 
our  vision  so  that  we  may  peer  into  their 
nature  and  observe  the  interplay  of  their 
activities.  In  the  theatre  of  subjective 
representation  the  nature  of  the  illusionary 
world  may  be  such  as  to  destroy  our  sense 
of  individuality  and  dissolve  us  entirely 
in  our  vision  (Meyerhold,  Reinhardt),  or 
it  may  definitely  mark  a  line  between 
ourselves  and  the  images  that  are  called 
forth  in  us.  The  latter  effect  will,  evi- 
dently, be  achieved  when  our  projected 
images  and  we  ourselves  are  localized  in 
space.  But  localization  means  discon- 
tinuity, and  so  the  three-dimensional 
space,  particularly,  as  stereoscopically  per- 
ceived, becomes  the  ideal  form  in  which 
our  position  with  regard  to  the  stage  is 
made  manifest  to  our  senses. 

Perhaps  the  nearest  approach  to  this 
effect  will  be  found  in  the  method  of 
staging  advocated  by  Mr  Gordon  Craig. 


igo     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

His  theories  of  the  theatre,  as  I  had 
occasion  to  remark,  are  not  a  little  con- 
fusing, but  looking  deeper  into  the  general 
conceptions  which  underlie  them,  I  think, 
we  shall  perceive  just  this  desire  to  set 
up  a  world  of  spiritual  beings  unravelling 
their  inner  nature  before  the  observing 
spectator.  It  is  worth  noticing  with  what 
persistence  Mr  Gordon  Craig  strives  to 
emphasize  the  form  of  objects  on  the  stage, 
and  how  intent  he  is  to  produce  the  effect 
of  an  infinite  expanse  in  which  figures  and 
objects  stand  out  like  lonely  monuments 
in  a  wild  desert.  This  feature  also  throws 
some  light  on  his  preaching  of  simplified 
forms.  Like  other  followers  of  the  method 
of  subjective  representation  he  endeavours 
to  create  the  illusion  of  true  reality  by 
an  appeal  to  the  spectator's  imagination. 
But  he  differs  from  them  in  that  he  leaves 
the  spectator  completely  conscious  of  his 
position  in  the  auditorium  (hence  Mr 
Craig's  sympathy  with  the  early  theatres 
of  presentation),  whilst  he  creates  the 
atmosphere  of  spirituality  by  simplifying 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     191 

the  appearance  of  things  to  the  point 
where  they  become  transformed  into 
abstract  entities.  In  this  way  he  com- 
bines subjective  illusionism  on  the  stage 
with  the  sense  of  actuality  in  the  audi- 
torium, and  welds  them  into  one  whole  in 
the  spectator's  vision  of  a  fragmentary 
world  of  spiritual  realities. 

Whilst  discussing  the  forms  of  dis- 
continuity in  the  theatre  I  cannot 
help  mentioning  the  perspective  stage 
employed  in  Italy  during  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries.  I  am  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  way  in  which  this  stage 
was  used  by  the  Italians,  and  the  effects 
it  served  to  produce.  But  when  I  look 
at  the  old  drawings,  such  as  Serlio's  and 
Furttenbach's,  I  clearly  perceive  that  in 
these  abstract  architectural  surroundings 
the  human  figure  becomes  a  small  but 
self-centred  unit,  opposed  to  every  other 
figure  or  object,  and  that  so  long  as  it 
remains  within  the  limits  of  this  monu- 
mental world,  this  latter  stands  before 
the  spectator  as  an  independent  entity 


192     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

composed  of  innumerable  self-detached 
elements.  It  is  a  source  of  regret  that 
the  modern  producers,  in  search  of  signifi- 
cant forms  for  the  method  of  representa- 
tion, have  completely  overlooked  the 
signal  expressiveness  of  the  early  per- 
spective stage. 

I  do  not  propose  to  discuss  here  the 
relative  value  of  the  various  forms  of  the 
theatre,  reviewed  in  this  essay.  There 
is,  however,  one  aspect  of  the  problem 
which  has  a  direct  bearing  on  the 
questions  discussed,  and  should,  therefore, 
be  pointed  out. 

In  art,  just  as  in  the  ordinary  walks  of 
life,  nothing  succeeds  like  success.  What- 
ever means  the  artist  may  employ,  it  is 
by  the  final  effect  that  he  will  be  judged. 
Nevertheless,  or  rather  because  of  that,  it 
is  the  means  that  justify  the  end,  and  not 
the  reverse.  As  applied  to  the  theatre, 
this  resolves  itself  into  the  principle : 
those  forms  of  the  theatre  are  justified 
which  are  able  to  realize  the  effect  they  set 
themselves  to  produce.  But  is  it  not  true 


An  Italian  Perspective  Scenery  of  the  Seventeenth  Century. 


[From  J.  FURTTENBACH'S  " Architect-lira  Civilis"  ULM,  1628] 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     193 

that  every  medium  has  its  limitations, 
and  that  the  theatre  likewise  can  yield  no 
more  than  its  natural  properties  will  allow  ? 
However  skilful  the  producer  may  be,  if 
he  strains  the  resources  of  the  theatre 
beyond  their  natural  limit,  the  effect  is 
bound  to  be  false,  and  nothing  is  more 
intolerable  in  art  than  inward  falsity. 
The  method  of  objective  illusionism  has 
been  particularly  criticized  on  this  score, 
and  its  efforts  to  transform  the  stage  into 
something  that  is  entirely  unlike  the  stage 
have  been  considered  its  greatest  offence 
against  the  principles  of  art.  There  is 
much  in  this  charge  which  cannot  be  gain- 
said, though  the  natural  capacity  of  the 
stage  to  undergo  transformation  is  far  from 
being  as  restricted  as  is  believed  by  many. 
But  what  is  still  more  important,  a  new 
theatrical  medium  has  sprung  up  amongst 
us,  which  does  away  even  with  these  re- 
strictions. The  much  abused  kinemato- 
graph  has  come  to  show  us  the  way  IP 
which  we  can  obtain  a  complete  command 
of  space.  The  "  hussy "  is  still  in  her 

N 


194     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

teens,  but  that  she  will  grow  up  into  a 
lady  of  charming  manners  and  refined 
taste  is,  to  my  mind,  beyond  doubt.  We 
shall  see  then  the  problems  which  engage 
the  modern  theatre  restated  in  new  terms 
and  solved  on  new  lines.  I  can  foresee 
three  of  the  forms  which  will  thus  be 
•evolved.  The  form  of  objective  representa- 
tion, in  which  the  spectator  will  watch 
the  world  of  real  life  as  if  he  were 
invisibly  present  in  the  events  portrayed. 
The  form  of  subjective  representation  in 
which  he  will  contribute  his  imaginative 
faculties  to  creating  the  illusion  of  con- 
ventional reality.  And,  lastly,  the  form 
of  presentation  in  which  the  kinemato- 
graphic  picture  will  be  just  a  moving 
picture  displayed  on  the  theatrical  wall  in 
front  of  the  theatrical  audience.  The 
perception  of  space  on  which  these  forms 
will  depend  will  accordingly  vary  from 
the  complete  stereoscopic  and,  therefore, 
discontinuous  effect  in  the  first  form,  to 
the  flat  and  continuous  effect  on  the 
*'  stage,"  and  the  realistic  and  discon- 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     195 

tinuous  effect  in  the  auditorium,  in  the 
last  form.  There  will  be  no  complete  con- 
tinuity and  no  "  theatre  of  action  "  in  the 
kinematograph,  as  the  position  of  the 
spectator,  the  actor  and  the  play  will 
be  strictly  denned  as  against  each  other. 
For  such  reason,  if  for  no  other,  I  parti- 
cularly welcome  this  new  development  of 
the  art  of  the  theatre,  and  I  do  so  the 
more  willingly,  because  I  am  a  convinced 
spectator,  jealous  of  my  own  personality, 
and  eager  to  watch  a  spectacle,  but  never 
to  act  in  somebodv  else's  show. 


196     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 


III 
TABLE  OF  FORMS  OF  THE  THEATRE1 

A.    FORMS   OF   UNITY  IN   THE   THEATRE 

i.  The    audience    and    the    play    united 
through  the  identity  of  the  play  with 

real  life. 
/• 

(a)  Objective  unity  in  action  :    audience 

— actors ;     the    world    of    action — 
continuous. 

(Theatre    of    action :     the     early 
Greek  theatre,  religious  plays.) 

(b)  Objective     unity     in     observation : 

audience — spectators  ;     performance 
— theatrical  reality  ;  audience  united 

1  The  classification  of  theatre-forms  here  given  does 
not  attempt  to  record  all  the  forms  revealed  through- 
out history.  Being  analytical  in  its  nature,  i.e.  pro- 
ceeding from  certain  abstract  conceptions,  it  is  justified 
inasmuch  as  it  succeeds  in  bringing  ^out  the  elements 
and  the  main  types  of  forms  of  the  theatre. 


LIVING  SPACE  AND  THE  THEATRE     197 

with  the  play,  but  opposed  to  each 
character. 

(Theatre  of  presentation  :  the 
Mediaeval  stage,  the  Shakespearian 
theatre.) 

2.  The  audience  and  the  play  united 
in  the  illusory  world  of  the  play 
(subjective  unity  in  representation) 
Audience — part  actors. 

(a)  The      illusory      world      continuous 

(Meyerhold's  staging  of  Maeterlinck, 
Reinhardt) . 

(b)  The      illusory     world      realistically 

discontinuous    (Evreinov's    "  mono- 
drama  "). 


B.    FORMS   OF   DISUNITY  IN   THE 
THEATRE. 

The  audience  and  the  play  stand  opposed. 

i.  The   illusory  world   discontinuous    (ob- 
jective representation  in  the  Moscow 


198     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

Art  Theatre ;  subjective  representa- 
tion in  Mr  Gordon  Craig's  method  of 
staging). 

2.  The  illusory  world  continuous  (presenta- 
tion in  flat  kinematograph  pictures). 


A  NOTE  ON  MR  GORDON 
CRAIG'S  THEORIES 


A    NOTE    ON    MR    GORDON 
CRAIG'S    THEORIES 

No  one  will  deny  Mr  Craig  artistic  genius 
or  striking  individuality.  He  feels  the 
shortcomings  of  the  modern  theatre  and 
intuitively,  as  an  artist,  conceives  the  forms 
in  which  it  would  find  a  loftier  and  more 
perfect  expression.  He  has  failed,  however, 
to  reconcile  his  many  and  various  sym- 
pathies and  antipathies  in  a  clear  and 
harmonious  theory.  Perhaps,  personally, 
he  does  not  require  one,  trusting  entirely 
to  his  own  sense  of  what  is  true  art  in 
the  theatre.  But,  unfortunately,  the  shame- 
ful indifference  of  the  English  public  has 
given  him  practically  no  chance  of  testing 
his  ideas  on  a  proper  scale,  and  still  keeps 
them  in  the  state  of  abstract  moulds  which 
may,  presumably,  require  considerable  re- 
shaping before  they  are  found  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  nature  of  the  material 


201 


202     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

worked  upon.  This  fact  creates  a  strange 
position  :  the  artist  has  to  be  judged  not 
by  his  actual  work  but  by  the  views  he 
holds,  which,  obviously,  is  most  abnormal. 
But  as  views,  whoever  holds  them,  exer- 
cise their  own  influence  and  have  an  in- 
dependent existence,  it  becomes  necessary 
for  the  critic  to  subject  them  to  an  im- 
partial examination,  and  to  bring  out  their 
essential  elements  when  these  happen  to 
be  enfolded  in  a  tissue  of  conflicting 
thoughts. 

The  confusion  of  Mr  Craig's  ideas  will 
be  seen  from  the  following  quotation : 
"  As  I  have  written  elsewhere  the  Theatre 
will  continue  its  growth  and  actors  will 
continue  for  some  years  to  hinder  its 
development.  But  I  see  a  loophole  by 
which  in  time  the  actors  can  escape  from 
the  bondage  they  are  in.  They  must 
create  for  themselves  a  new  form  of  acting, 
consisting  for  the  main  part  of  symbolical 
gesture.  To-day  they  impersonate  and 
interpret  ;  to-morrow  they  must  repre- 
sent and  interpret ;  and  the  third  day 


MR  GORDON  CRAIG'S  THEORIES     203 

they  must  create.  By  this  means  style 
may  return.  To-day  the  actor  imper- 
sonates a  certain  being.  He  cries  to  the 
audience  :  '  Watch  me  ;  I  am  now  pre- 
tending to  be  so  and  so,  and  I  am  now 
pretending  to  do  so  and  so/  and  then  he 
proceeds  to  imitate  as  exactly  as  possible 
that  which  he  has  announced  he  will 
indicate.  For  instance  he  is  Romeo.  He 
tells  the  audience  that  he  is  in  love,  and 
he  proceeds  to  show  it  by  kissing  Juliet. 
This,  it  is  claimed,  is  a  work  of  art ;  it  is 
claimed  for  this  that  it  is  an  intelligent 
way  of  suggesting  thought.  Why — why, 
that  is  just  as  if  a  painter  were  to  draw 
upon  the  wall  a  picture  of  an  animal  with 
long  ears  and  then  write  under  it,  '  This  is 
a  donkey.'  The  long  ears  make  it  plain 
enough,  one  would  think,  without  the 
inscription,  and  any  child  of  ten  does  as 
much.  The  difference  between  the  child  of 
ten  and  the  artist  is  that  the  artist  is  he 
who  by  drawing  certain  signs  and  shapes 
creates  the  impression  of  a  donkey  ;  and 
the  greater  artist  is  he  who  creates  the 


204     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

impression  of  the  whole  genus  of  donkey, 
the  spirit  of  the  thing."  ("  On  the  Art  of 
the  Theatre,"  p.  61-62.)  In  another  part 
of  his  book  Mr  Craig  says  :  "In  England 
we  find  a  clever  actor  laughing  at  his  part 
and  himself,  and  winking  all  the  time  at 
the  audience,  horrified  least  he  may  be 
taken  seriously.  .  .  .  Here  in  Moscow 
they  risk  the  blunder  and  achieve  the 
distinction  of  being  the  best  set  of  actors 
upon  the  European  stage."  (Ibid.,  p.  135.) 
The  last  quotation  seems  to  indicate  that 
Mr  Craig  is  opposed  to  any  display  of 
"  acting  "  ("  winking,"  "  mockery  "  as  he 
styles  it),  and  is  heart  and  soul  with  the 
earnestness  of  the  Moscow  company  who 
seem  to  live  in  their  parts.  In  the  terms 
used  in  this  book  he  takes  his  stand  with 
representation  against  presentation.  Then 
we  see  that  in  the  forms  of  representation 
he  strongly  denounces  naturalism,  whilst 
favouring  symbolism.  But  here  we  come 
to  the  crucial  point.  What  is  Mr  Craig's 
symbolism  ?  Judging  by  his  writings  it  is 
a  form  of  spiritualism  in  which  symbols  are 


MR  GORDON  CRAIG'S  THEORIES     205 

not  mere  generalizations  of  the  concrete 
facts  but  are  themselves  living  realities. 
At  the  same  time  he  often  speaks  of 
symbolism  as  merely  a  method  of  artistic 
simplification,  which  is,  of  course,  an  alto- 
gether different  thing.  Now  spiritualism, 
pure  and  simple,  makes  no  claim  to  any 
specific  form  of  its  realization  in  the 
theatre.  Apart  from  the  theatre  of  action 
in  which  it  can  hold  an  unrestricted  sway, 
in  the  theatre-spectacle  spiritualism  can  be 
realized  in  scenic  forms  by  the  methods 
both  of  representation  (either  objective  or 
subjective)  and  of  presentation.  The  same 
applies  to  simplification,  the  use  of  which 
also  is  not  restricted  to  any  of  the 
two  methods  mentioned.  How  are  we 
then  to  understand  Mr  Craig's  opposition 
of  creative  or  symbolical  acting  to  imper- 
sonation and  interpretation  ?  If  he  sees 
the  object  of  the  theatre  in  giving  life  on 
the  stage  to  spiritual  realities,  this  can 
surely  be  done  only  by  impersonation.  If 
on  the  other  hand,  the  object  lies  in  reduc- 
ing manifold  impressions  of  life  to  some 


206     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

essential  simplified  forms,  then,  as  surely, 
the  actor  does  not  create  but  merely  in- 
terprets. In  addition  to  this  we  find  Mr 
Craig  often  expressing  sympathy  with  the 
old  English  and  Italian  theatres  which, 
we  know,  exclusively  employed  the  method 
of  presentation.  Small  wonder  that  as  a 
result  of  all  this  confusion  of  principles, 
Mr  Craig's  conception  of  theatrical  produc- 
tion can  be  called  anything  but  clear.  Yet, 
in  spite  of  its  theoretical  obscurity,  there  is 
sound  sense  and  a  clear  message  in  the 
vision  of  the  theatre  which  hovers  before 
the  mind  of  Mr  Craig.  Elsewhere  I  attempt 
to  translate  it  into  clear  terms  of  the 
theatre -grammar,  reconciling  in  the  con- 
crete and  particular  instance  what  in  its 
theoretical  form  was  a  mass  of  contradic- 
tions. Thus  it  is  only  in  concrete  realiza- 
tion and  not  in  theory  that  Mr  Craig's 
vision  of  a  new  theatre  can  find  its  true 
justification. 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART 


THE  KliNEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART1 

THE  wonderful  popularity  enjoyed  by  the 
kinematograph  during  the  last  decade  has 
been  for  a  long  time  a  subject  of  eager 
discussion  in  those  circles  which  have  the 
interests  of  the  theatre  at  heart.  The 
various  groups  of  art-workers  connected 
with  the  theatre,  such  as  the  dramatists, 
the  actors,  and  the  artists,  are  directly 
involved  in  the  problem,  and  it  is  interesting 
to  note  how  different  has  been  the  attitude 
revealed  toward  it  by  each  of  these  sections. 
The  artists,  perhaps  the  most  cultured  of 
these  three  groups  from  the  standpoint  of 
art,  have  simply  ignored  the  kinematograph 
as  something  so  crude  and  inartistic  as  to 
be  unworthy  of  serious  notice.  It  is  true 
a  few  genuine  attempts  have  been  made  at 
reform,  but  for  several  reasons,  of  which 

1  The  above  essay  was  originally  published  in  the 
American  quarterly,  The  Drama,  and  is  repioduced 
here  with  a  few  slight  alterations. 


2io     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  principal  was  that  the  artists  failed  to 
comprehend  the  real  nature  of  the  medium, 
they  all  proved  a  complete  failure. 

The  attitude  of  the  majority  of  the 
actors  has  been  much  more  condescending. 
Those  amongst  them  who  have  generally 
concerned  themselves  very  little  with  mat- 
ters of  art  have  accepted  the  kinematograph 
with  the  docile  humility  that  is  accorded 
to  all  things  of  the  natural  order.  They 
have  transferred  to  the  new  invention 
whatever  knowledge  of  drama  they  had 
gained  on  the  legitimate  stage,  in  addition 
to  which  they  supplied  only  one  new 
feature  —  an  extreme  exaggeration  in 
mimicry  and  action,  which  they  held  to 
be  the  chief  peculiarity  of  moving  pictures. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  more  advanced 
members  of  the  theatrical  profession,  those 
who  have  really  been  anxious  to  propagate 
and  establish  on  the  stage  the  principles 
of  vital  art,  however  much  they  may  have 
diverged  in  their  interpretation  of  them, 
at  once  realized  the  danger  which  threatened 
the  drama  from  the  encroachment  of  the 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     211 

modern  kinematograph  theatres,  and  did 
not  hesitate  to  proclaim  a  most  resolute 
opposition  in  an  endeavour  to  protect 
their  art  from  being  contaminated  by  this 
"  vulgar  mechanical  device." 

Thus  we  see  those  sections  of  the  com- 
munity, for  whom  art  has  been  an  object 
of  vital  faith,  have  rejected  the  kinemato- 
graph as  a  medium  devoid  of  any  artistic 
qualities.  But  it  would  be  wrong  to  infer 
that  it  has  always  lacked  faithful  champions. 
Strange  as  it  may  appear,  these  have  come 
from  the  group  which  is  furthest  removed 
from  the  actuality  of  the  problems  of  the 
theatre,  namely  the  dramatists.  As  might 
be  expected,  the  only  fault  the  "  littera- 
teurs "  have  been  able  to  detect  in  moving 
pictures  has  been  found  in  the  plot,  and 
as  a  consequence  they  have  set  themselves 
the  task  of  remedying  it.  With  an  enviable 
ease  they  began  to  pour  out  elaborate 
philosophical  dramas,  mystery  plays, 
tragedies,  "  literary "  melo-dramas,  and 
what  not,  in  order  to  demonstrate  what 
41  artistic  "  possibilities  had  been  lying  dor- 


212     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

mant  in  the  neglected  and  abused  kine- 
matograph.  Once  they  found  that  the 
theatre  was  no  longer  held  in  popular 
esteem,  they  had  no  compunction  in  erecting 
their  rostrum  on  the  picture-screen,  the 
more  so  as  this,  in  their  opinion,  served 
at  once  to  achieve  two  objects  —  the 
popularization  of  the  drama  and  the  eleva- 
tion of  moving  pictures  to  a  higher  artistic 
level.  I  need  only  mention  such  names  as 
Gabriel  D'Annunzio  and  Leonid  Andreyev 
to  show  what  resolute  and  self-confident 
arch-priests  of  literature  have  undertaken 
the  task  of  reforming  the  moving-picture 
play.  But  though  their  attempts  have  raised 
a  whole  host  of  arguments  and  contro- 
versies amongst  all  interested  in  the  theatre, 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  failure  must  be 
the  inevitable  result  of  their  efforts.  Their 
defence  of  the  pictures  is  as  inherently  wrong 
as  is  the  opposition  of  artists  and  actors, 
since  both  are  the  outcome  of  a  complete 
failure  to  understand  the  peculiar  nature  of 
the  kinematograph  as  a  medium  of  art. 
But  if  the  dramatists'  defence  leaves  us 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     213 

entirely  unmoved,  as  coming  virtually 
from  "  outsiders,"  we  cannot  but  deplore 
the  opposition  on  the  side  of  those  who 
ought  to  be  the  first  and  foremost  exponents 
of  the  new  art  of  moving  pictures.  For 
there  is  an  artistic  future  for  the  kinemato- 
graph — a  future  as  great  as  any  form  of 
artistic  drama  can  hope  to  attain.  We 
may  ignore  the  criticisms  of  those  who  are 
sufficiently  advanced  to  condemn  as  utter 
vulgarity  the  modern  moving  pictures  as 
well  as  photographs,  gramophones,  and  most 
other  products  of  the  over-resourceful 
mechanical  genius  of  our  time.  These  well- 
intentioned  dilletantes  are  only  victims  of 
the  prevailing  artistic  conventions,  and 
have  no  standard  of  their  own  to  discrimin- 
ate between  what  is  art  and  what  is  not. 
The  future  of  the  kinematograph  does  not 
rest  with  them.  It  depends  upon  those  en- 
lightened and  liberal  lovers  of  art  who  can 
see  beyond  the  conventions  of  the  moment, 
who  possess  a  range  of  sympathies  which 
is  already  wide  enough  to  embrace  such 
divergent  revelations  of  art  as,  for  example, 


214     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  static  art  of  Egypt,  the  decorativeness 
of  Eastern  art,  and  the  rudimentality  of 
Sezanne  and  Van  Goch,  or  referring  strictly 
to  the  domain  of  drama,  the  ancient  tragedy, 
the  puppet  show  and  the  productions  of 
modern  reformers.  Theirs  is  the  task  of 
creating  the  canons  and  standards,  and 
eventually,  of  course,  the  conventions  of  the 
art  of  the  kinematograph,  and  of  building 
up  a  tradition  that  will,  in  due  course,  pass 
through  the  period  when  it  is  merely 
fashionable  to  attain  finally  the  state  of 
an  acknowledged  form  of  artistic  expression. 

It  is  with  the  object  of  securing  a  more 
sympathetic  attitude  for  this,  at  the  present 
time  so  much  discredited,  medium  that  I 
venture,  however  conscious  of  the  heresy, 
to  advance  a  plea  for  the  kinematograph  as 
a  vehicle  of  real  art-expression. 

Much  has  been  said  in  the  Press  about 
the  issues  involved  in  the  problem  of 
moving  pictures  :  their  special  appeal  to 
the  masses ;  their  competition  with  the 
theatre  ;  whether  they  are  to  supersede 
the  latter  or  whether  they  are  doomed  to 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     215 

be  merely  a  transient  fashion  and  eventu- 
ally disappear  ;  their  artistic  crudity,  i.e. 
whether  they  are  a  reversal  to  the  methods 
of  the  Booth  and  whether  they  indicate 
the  birth  of  a  new  democratic  art ;  and 
many  other  similar  questions.  With  these 
issues  I  am  little  concerned  in  this  article. 
Without  wishing  to  detract  from  their 
interest  and  importance,  I  hold  that  they 
leave  entirely  aside  the  most  essential 
factor  of  the  problem — the  peculiar  nature 
of  the  medium  which  alone  should  form 
the  basis  of  its  possible  artistic  application. 
Before,  however,  I  am  able  to  enter  upon  a 
discussion  of  this  problem,  there  has  to  be 
cleared  away  a  number  of  popular  mis- 
conceptions, held,  alas !  with  such  tenacity 
as  to  make  one  despair  whether  any  argu- 
ments against  them  will  ever  prevail.  In 
the  sphere  of  ideas  as  that  of  biology  it 
would  seem  that  the  lowest  forms  are  the 
most  tenacious  of  life. 

One  of  the  first  duties  of  the  critic  is 
discrimination.  However,  so  far  as  the 
kinematograph  is  concerned,  the  criticisms 


216     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

so  liberally  hurled  at  it  from  all  sides  have 
been  little  distinguished  by  this  character. 
Two  entirely  distinct  things  have  been 
persistently  confused  by  all  critics  —  the 
kinematograph  as  a  medium,  and  the  kine- 
matograph  theatre  as  we  know  it  at  the 
present  time.  That  the  second  is  below 
criticism — indeed,  something  coarse,  crude, 
and  altogether  ugly — can  be  easily  and  un- 
reservedly admitted.  But  to  deduce  from 
this  fact,  as  is  often  done,  the  impossi- 
bility of  an  artistic  kinematograph  would 
betray  lack  of  logic  and  imagination.  It  is 
evident,  in  the  first  place,  that  many  draw- 
backs of  the  modern  kinema-drama  are  in 
no  way  connected  with  the  kinematograph 
as  a  peculiar  medium  of  dramatic  expres- 
sion. To  take,  for  instance,  the  vulgar 
realism  of  moving  pictures  which  is  so  much 
complained  of.  Is  it  a  peculiar  feature  of 
the  kinematograph  ?  The  students  of  the 
theatre  will  agree  that  naturalism  as  vulgar 
as  this  had  been  reigning  on  the  legitimate 
stage  long  before  the  kinematograph  was 
ever  able  to  compete  with  it.  The  pictures 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     217 

simply  followed  along  the  beaten  track, 
bringing  to  logical  absurdity  what  the 
legitimate  drama,  not  endowed  with  the 
infinite  resourcefulness  of  its  competitor, 
could  only  pursue  half-way. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  the  many 
similar  drawbacks  of  the  kinematograph. 
I  am  not  so  much  concerned  with  what 
it  actually  is  as  with  what  it  might  be. 
The  problem  that  really  matters  may  be 
stated  in  the  words  :  is  the  kinematograph 
a  medium  capable  of  artistic  achievement 
in  the  two  fields  that  make  up  the  art  of 
the  stage,  the  dramatic  and  the  pictorial  ? 
The  answer  to  this  question  necessarily 
involves  a  discussion  of  the  vexed  question 
of  mechanical  art.  However  reluctant  I 
am  to  touch  upon  this  controversy,  so 
much  abused  and  of  so  little  profit  to 
anyone  concerned,  I  am  unable  to  avoid  it 
altogether.  So  bowing  my  will  before  the 
inevitable,  I  shall  try  to  dispose  of  it  in  the 
briefest  possible  manner. 

It  is  often  contended  that  automatic 
mechanism  can  never  attain  to  anything 


218     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

like  artistic  perfection,  and  that  conse- 
quently there  is  no  artistic  future  for  the 
kinematograph. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  whole  argument 
stands  or  falls  by  the  definition  of  "  mechan- 
ism." But  this  definition  is  never  stated 
in  anything  like  exact  terms.  That  there 
are  no  absolutely  automatic  mechanisms 
hardly  needs  pointing  out.  They  all  must 
be  controlled  by  human  power  at  one 
moment  or  another,  and  what  is  still  more 
important,  they  are  all  products  of  human 
intelligence,  and  whatever  forces  there  may 
be  involved  in  their  working,  these  forces 
are  brought  together  by  the  action  of 
human  thought  which,  compressed  and 
wound  up  like  a  spring,  constitutes  their 
actual  prime-mover  throughout  the  whole 
process  of  their  working.  The  problem  is 
thus  reduced  to  the  definition  of  that  degree 
of  independence  from  immediate  human 
control  and  power  which  mechanism,  as 
such,  can  possess.  This,  however,  is  so 
indeterminate  that  we  see  similar  kinds 
of  action,  in  one  case  styled  mechanical, 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     219 

and  in  another  case  highly  individual. 
Who  will  doubt,  for  instance,  that  the 
action  of  an  organ  played  at  a  concert  is 
individual,  and  that  of  a  locomotive  engine 
mechanical  ?  (I  pass  over  the  contro- 
versial question  of  the  piano-player).  And 
yet  it  cannot  be  disputed  that  the  second 
requires  as  much  skill  and  personal  control 
as  the  first.  Let  it  be  noted,  the  point 
of  the  argument  is  not  whether  their  work  is 
art  or  not  art,  but  whether  it  is  mechanical 
or  non-mechanical.  I  maintain  that  there 
is  no  real  distinction  between  the  one  and 
the  other,  and  that  both  can  be  made  to 
serve  artistic  ends  if  properly  used. 

One  more  example  of  the  prevailing  con- 
fusion of  thought  on  this  subject.  The 
gramophone  is  admittedly  a  mechanical 
contrivance.  So  is  the  telephone.  Yet  no 
one,  listening  through  the  telephone  to  an 
opera,  ever  says  that  the  music  one 
hears  is  a  mechanical  production.  The  sole 
difference,  however,  that  exists  between 
this  music  and  its  record  on  the  gramo- 
phone, is  that  the  gramophone  fixes  only 


220     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

one  stage  of  the  process — the  vibrations  of 
the  membrane — and  allows  one  at  will  to 
"  switch  on,"  so  to  speak,  the  flow  of  sound, 
whilst  the  telephone  receives  and  transmits 
the  sound  in  one  continuous  process. 

The  above  two  examples  show  not  only 
how  vague  is  the  popular  use  of  the  term 
"  mechanical,"  but  reveal  also  the  elements 
that  go  to  make  up  the  significance  of  this 
term.  These  elements  are :  (i)  complexity 
of  mechanism,  (2)  the  number  of  inter- 
mediate stages,  and  (3)  the  period  of  time 
between  the  application  of  human  power 
and  the  appearance  of  the  effect.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  rid  the  mind  of  prejudice  for  a 
moment,  to  be  able  to  see  that  not  a  single 
one  of  these  elements  is  in  any  way  incom- 
patible with  artistic  work  and  achievement. 
And  if  at  the  present  time  mechanical 
methods  of  production  under  our  com- 
mercial system  have  served  to  destroy 
whatever  artistic  feeling  there  has  been 
in  the  producer,  this  speaks  not  against 
the  mechanical  method  as  such,  but  against 
the  way  it  is  used  in  our  time. 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     221 

Now  let  us  examine  the  problem  itself. 
Let  us  first  endeavour  to  realize  what  is 
the  peculiar  nature  of  the  kinema-drama, 
and  then  we  shall  be  able  to  see  how  far 
this  "  mechanical  "  medium  lends  itself  to 
artistic  expression. 

Perhaps  it  is  one  of  the  most  startling 
facts  about  the  kinematograph  productions 
that  the  actors  who,  at  the  present  time, 
play  for  the  pictures  are  all  members  of 
the  legitimate  dramatic  profession.  Their 
attainments  on  the  theatre  stage  need  not 
be  discussed  in  this  instance,  but  it  stands 
beyond  dispute  that  of  kinema-acting  they 
understand  very  little  indeed.  The  kinema- 
drama  raises  some  of  the  most  fundamental 
problems  of  art.  But  what  do  they  know 
of  them  ?  Are  they  aware  that  the  kine- 
matograph play  is  the  most  abstract  form 
of  the  pantomime  ?  Do  they  realize  that 
if  there  is  any  stage  on  which  the  laws  of 
movement  should  reign  supreme,  it  is  the 
kinematograph  stage  ?  If  they  did,  they 
would  not  have  monopolized  the  kinemato- 
graph play,  but  would  have  left  it  to  the 


222     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

dancers,  clowns,  and  acrobats  who  do  know 
something  about  the  laws  of  movement. 
By  no  means  do  I  presume  that  dancers 
and  clowns  are  necessarily  artists.  But 
movement  is  their  natural  element,  and  it 
is  also  movement  that  constitutes  the  real 
nature  of  the  kinematograph.  The  patrons 
and  devotees  of  present-day  pictures  may 
boast  of  their  "  wonderful  realistic  effects," 
but  this  popular  conception  only  betrays  the 
complete  failure  to  grasp  this  one  salient 
fact,  that  viewed  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  drama,  just  as  from  many  other  stand- 
points of  which  more  will  be  said  later  on, 
the  kinematograph  is  essentially  and  pre- 
eminently dynamic. 

It  is  necessary  at  this  point  to  realize 
the  effect  of  picture-plays  if  this  principle 
of  pure  movement  was  recognized  through- 
out. "  Rolling  eyes  "  and  wild  gesticula- 
tion would  be  abolished.  Sham  "  natural  " 
talking  would  give  place  to  mimicry  and 
gesture,  free  and  eloquent.  Movement  of 
actors  would  no  longer  imitate  actual  life 
but  would  synthetically  express  it  in  the 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     223 

peculiar  laws  of  rhythmic  motion.  Panto- 
mimes, harlequinades,  and  ballets  would 
take  the  place  of  the  present-day  melo- 
dramas and  comical  pictures,  thus  giving  an 
adequate  expression  to  the  wordless  nature 
of  the  medium.  Would  it  be  possible, 
then,  to  argue  that  there  is  no  art  in  the 
Mnematograph  ?  So  far  as  the  dramatic 
aspect  is  concerned  this,  at  any  rate,  would 
constitute  a  most  decisive  step  in  the 
direction  of  art.  And  other  advances  would 
immediately  follow  once  the  fundamental 
principle  was  firmly  established. 

It  is  often  contended  that  the  presence 
in  bodily  form  of  the  actor  in  the  play  is  the 
sine-qua-non  of  artistic  drama.  This  view  is 
held  both  by  those  who  believe  in  realism 
on  the  stage  and  by  those  who  do  not.  The 
attitude  of  the  latter  is  particularly  droll. 
After  disposing  of  all  the  realistic  mummery, 
they  cling  to  the  last  citadel  of  "  the  true 
to  nature  "  gospel  of  art — the  bodily  shell 
of  the  actor.  Why,  is  it  not  his  personality 
that  really  matters  ?  And  is  that  expressed 
only  in  the  frail  body  of  the  actor  ?  To  the 


224     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

spectator  of  some  artistic  culture  it  is  in 
a  sense  irrelevant  whether  the  acting  on  the 
stage  is  performed  by  living  persons,  by 
dolls,  or  by  kinematograph  shadows.  The 
effect  in  each  case  must  necessarily  be 
different,  but  only  in  so  far  as  the  artistic 
properties  of  each  of  these  media  of  drama 
differ  from  each  other.  Their  absolute 
artistic  value  remains  unaffected  by  their 
being  animate  or  inanimate.  In  fact,  it 
is  open  to  argument,  whether  man  is  at  all 
suitable  as  a  medium  of  dramatic  art — as 
is  the  contention  of  Mr  Gordon  Craig  and 
others.  But  we  need  not  go  so  far.  In 
the  case  of  kinema-drama  we  do  not 
dispense  with  the  actor.  We  dispense  only 
with  his  body.  Perhaps  those  who  cannot 
reconcile  themselves  to  this  fact  will  find 
comfort  in  reflecting  upon  the  time  when 
poets  were  gradually  led  to  recognize  that 
singing  a  poem  in  person  is  not  the  only 
way  of  rendering  the  artistic  beauties  of 
the  composition.  In  our  age  of  reduplica- 
tion, to  the  list  of  arts  which  already  resort 
to  this  process  (poetry,  music,  lithography, 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     225 

etching)  we  now  add  the  sacred  art  of  the 
theatre.     It  is  a  process  of  natural  develop- 
ment, and  it  would  be  sheer  stupidity  on 
our  part  if  we  continued  to  ignore  it  or  to 
notice  only  its  outward  features.      Just  as 
it  did  not  degrade  the  profession  of  the 
painter  when  he  realized  the  artistic  possi- 
bilities of  lithography,  so  it  will  not  degrade 
the  modern  actor  if  he  makes  full  use  of 
the  new  medium  which  human  ingenuity 
has  placed  at  his  command.     The  real  and 
the  only  problem  for  him  is  to  find  out 
what  actually  constitutes  the  peculiar  pro- 
perties   of    the   medium,    and    how    these 
properties  should  be  managed  to  achieve 
the  highest  artistic  effect.     The  fact  that 
the  problem  can  be  solved  only  by  practice 
and    experiment,    and    that     present-day 
kinematograph  practice  has  produced,   in 
the    artistic    sense,    some    most    appalling 
results,  must  not  be  taken  as  proof  of  the 
inartistic    nature    of    the    medium    itself. 
The    truth    of    this    statement    has    been 
shown  above  as  applied  to  the  playing  of 
actors.     It  will  be  seen  that  it  is  equally 


226     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

true  applied  to  the  pictorial  element  of 
stage  production. 

The  peculiar  optical  effects  of  the  kine- 
matograph  are  a  resultant  of  two  processes  : 
the  photographic  process  of  making  the 
film,  and  the  process  of  projecting  the  film 
on  to  the  screen. 

What  artistic  possibilities  do  these  pro- 
cesses possess  ? 

There  is  no  need  to  enter,  in  this  instance, 
upon  a  discussion  of  photography  as  art. 
Its  shortcomings  as  a  medium  and  the 
triteness  of  the  average  photographic  work 
can  hardly  be  disputed.  But  only  prejudice 
can  deny  it  any  artistic  quality  whatever. 
The  magnificent  work  so  often  found  at 
various  photographic  exhibitions  proves 
beyond  doubt  that  photography  and  art 
are  not  so  incompatible  as  some  of  our 
purists  would  like  us  to  believe. 

The  same  is  the  case  with  kinema- 
photography.  So  long  as  it  remains  in 
the  hands  of  mere  operators  and  chemists, 
so  long  will  its  pictorial  value  be  on  a 
par  with  the  artistic  conceptions  held  by 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     227 

these  craftsmen.  And  this  can  hardly  be 
wondered  at,  seeing  that  the  nature  of  the 
new  medium,  to  be  properly  understood, 
requires  such  a  culture  of  mind  as  is  seldom 
met  with  even  amongst  professional  ex- 
ponents of  art. 

The  problem  presented  is  no  less  than 
that  of  determining  the  exact  degree  of  sig- 
nificance attaching  to  the  various  dramatic 
and  pictorial  forms  of  the  medium. 

At  the  outset  there  must  be  stated  one 
important  fact.  The  kinematograph  has  at 
its  command  two  distinct  ways  of  producing 
plays  :  the  two-dimensional  production  on 
the  ordinary  screen,  and  the  three-dimen- 
sional production  by  means  01  different 
stereoscopic  devices  and  of  the  kine- 
plastikon.  Too  much  stress  cannot  be 
laid  upon  this  distinction.  Its  importance 
is  enormous  since  in  the  two  forms  of 
space — of  two  and  of  three  dimensions — we 
obtain  two  aspects  of  the  world  which  are 
opposed  to  each  other  in  their  very  elements. 

Without  repeating  the  arguments  dis- 
cussed elsewhere  in  this  volume,  I  will 


228     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

only  state  that  the  setting  on  the  stage 
may  either  emphasize  the  reality  and 
independence  of  the  world  portrayed,  or 
it  may  suggest  its  unity  with  the  spectator. 
It  achieves  the  first  effect  by  enclosing  the 
action  within  the  architectural  boundaries 
of  the  stage  and  by  creating  the  percep- 
tion of  figures  and  objects  isolated  in  space. 
It  achieves  the  second  effect  by  destroying 
the  opposition  of  the  architectural  forms 
of  the  stage  and  the  amphitheatre,  and  by 
drowning  the  forms  of  objects  in  the  visual 
continuity  that  tends  towards  the  percep- 
tion of  a  single  plane. 

With  certain  qualifications,  the  same 
principles  obtain  in  the  kinematograph, 
determining  its  dramatic  and  pictorial  pre- 
sentment. Compared  with  the  legitimate 
stage  or  painting  on  flat  surfaces,  the 
command  of  space  possessed  by  the  kine- 
matograph is  infinitely  greater  than  theirs. 
As  it  is  able  to  discriminate  between  the 
different  methods  of  pictorial  presentation, 
it  is  certainly  obliged  to  do  so.  Unlike 
the  others,  it  can  afford  to  be  logical.  Its 


THE  K1NEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART    229 

pictures  on  the  ordinary  screen  are  already 
as  flat  as  paintings.  But  it  would  only 
gain  in  effect,  and  would  reveal  the  inner 
monistic  nature  of  the  two-dimensional 
space,  if  it  were  more  consistent  and  elimin- 
ated every  atom  of  natural  relief.  Play  of 
lines  and  colours  is  all  that  is  required 
on  the  flat  screen,  and  if  properties  of  the 
medium  have,  as  everybody  believes  now- 
adays, any  importance  in  the  achievement 
of  artistic  effect,  then  it  is  obvious  that 
the  kinematograph  can  only  gain  by  con- 
sistent application  of  flat  setting  to  pictures 
on  the  ordinary  screen. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  represent  the 
world  as  distinct  from  the  spectator  and 
individualized  within  itself,  the  method  of 
three-dimensional  staging  affords  both  the 
actor  and  the  pictorial  artist  an  unlimited 
scope  for  new  and  altogether  original 
artistic  achievements. 

The  stagings  of  Mr  Gordon  Craig,  for 
instance,  unfetter  and  expand  the  stage. 
They  are  not  theatrical  in  the  narrow  sense 
of  the  word.  They  purport  to  create  on  the 


230     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

boards  a  world  of  their  own — one  entirely 
distinct  from  the  stage  world,  however  far, 
at  the  same  time,  it  may  be  removed 
from  the  realistic.  But  the  stage  is  only  a 
stage,  and  the  space  on  it  has  its  well- 
known  limitations.  The  case  with  the 
stereoscopic  kinematograph  is  different.  Its 
command  of  space  is  practically  boundless. 
It  can  create  another  world  and  place  it 
before  the  eyes  of  the  audience  that  they 
may  watch  it  with  admiration,  sympathy,  or 
disdain.  The  stereoscopic  kinematograph, 
in  the  hands  of  real  artists,  could  raise  even 
realistic  drama  (in  its  worldless  form,  of 
course)  to  its  proper  position  as  representing 
the  world  objectively  stated  and  watched 
from  outside. 

As  to  the  pictorial  artist,  both  the  plane 
and  the  stereoscopic  moving  picture  open 
before  him  a  new  field  for  artistic  develop- 
ment. It  would  be  impossible  at  the 
present  stage  of  the  kinematograph  to 
discuss  in  detail  the  multifarious  problems 
arising  out  of  the  application  of  this  new 
process.  Only  practical  experience  could 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     231 

give  satisfactory  answers  to  many  of  the 
questions.  But  there  are  some  general 
features  of  the  kinema-pictorial  process, 
which  already  allow  of  analysis  and 
discussion. 

The  most  important  of  them  is  the 
dynamic  character  of  the  kinematograph. 
In  addition  to  the  third  dimension,  which 
the  kinematograph  provides  by  stereoscopic 
projection,  it  possesses  yet  another  co- 
ordinate— time.  How  does  this  element 
enter  into  the  pictorial  and  plastic  arts  ? 
We  know  the  Egyptians  answered  this 
question  by  discarding  the  notion  itself. 
Instead  of  transient  time  they  imparted 
to  their  immovable,  frigid  productions  a 
spirit  of  eternity.  The  Greek,  the  Renais- 
sance, and  most  modern  artists  tried  to 
give  the  impression  of  movement  by  arrang- 
ing the  elements  of  a  picture  or  a  statue 
in  such  a  way  that  the  eye  had  to  travel 
over  the  production  and,  by  following  the 
contortions  of  the  muscles  of  a  moving  animal 
or  man,  gained  the  desired  impression. 
A  further,  though  hardly  successful,  step 


232     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

was  made  by  Picasso  and  other  cubists. 
Instead  of  attempting  representation  of 
movement,  they  simply  assumed  that  the 
longer  it  takes  you  to  disentangle  their  re- 
buses, the  greater  is  the  impression  of  time. 
And  so  it  really  is,  for  boredom  increases 
in  the  geometrical  progression.  Lastly,  we 
have  the  most  wonderful  solution  which 
the  futurists  give  us.  Time,  they  would 
give  us  to  understand,  is  just  like  an  opera- 
hat.  Squeeze  it  into  one  moment,  as  you 
squeeze  the  hat  by  inadvertently  sitting  on 
it,  and  everything  will  come  right.  They 
call  this  "  fluency  of  the  body,"  or  "  viewing 
the  world  under  the  aspect  of  the  fourth 
dimension,"  which,  whatever  else  can  be 
said  of  it,  sounds  at  least  very  impressive. 
Now  the  kinematograph  is  the  first 
medium  by  which  one  can  deal  with  time 
squarely  and  fairly  without  recourse  to 
such  tricks  (however  "  square  "  they  may 
be)  as  the  cubist  or  futurist  make  use  of. 
Is  that  not  in  itself  a  sufficient  reason  why 
artists  should  at  once  take  up  this  unique 
opportunity  ? 


Thus,  following  the  distinction  stated 
above,  we  shall  have  two  branches  of  this 
mobile  art :  the  flat  screen  kinematograph 
— the  realm  of  the  flat-surface  artist,  and 
the  stereoscopic  kinematograph,  the  realm 
of  the  sculptor — the  thinker  in  form  and 
colour.  At  present,  the  only  indications 
of  this  future  mobile  art  are  found  in 
the  best  theatrical  productions,  such,  for 
instance,  as  the  exquisite  stagings  of  the 
Russian  ballets  by  Bakst,  Anisfeld,  Golovin, 
and  their  designs  for  costumes  in  particular, 
since  in  the  varying  combinations  of  lines 
and  colours  on  the  background  of  the 
scenery  there  lies  the  basis  of  the  mobile 
art. 

It  is  necessary  at  this  point  and  in  the 
light  of  the  foregoing  opinions  to  consider 
what  position  the  artist  will  occupy  in 
future  kinematograph  productions.  In  the 
stereoscopic  kinematograph  he  already  has 
at  his  command  nearly  all  he  can  desire. 
It  is  true,  the  life-colours  are  yet  wanting, 
but  an  artist  can  obtain  a  real  colour-tone 
from  black  and  white.  Also  he  can  tone 


234     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

the  film  just  as  he  pleases,  so  that  after  all 
he  is  not  entirely  deprived  of  colour. 
Otherwise  the  stereoscopic  kinema-photo- 
graphy  leaves  hardly  anything  to  be  desired. 
It  gives  a  facsimile  reproduction,  colour 
excepted,  of  the  actual  scene.  If,  then, 
the  legitimate  stage  affords  scope  for  the 
application  of  artistic  talent,  the  stereo- 
scopic kinematograph  has  the  additional 
advantage  of  a  much  greater  command  of 
space  than  the  stage. 

The  problems  of  photography  in  the 
one-plane  kinematograph  are  somewhat 
different.  They  are  akin  to  those  met 
with  in  other  arts  dealing  with  the  flat 
surface ;  on  the  other  hand,  they  are 
naturally  distinguished  from  them  in  so 
far  as  they  all  depend  on  the  mobile  con- 
ditions of  the  kinematograph.  The  influ- 
ence of  these  conditions  on  other  artistic 
effects  can  be  judged  from  the  fact  that 
in  moving  pictures  we  are  seldom  able  to 
fix  our  attention  on  one  given  position  for 
any  considerable  length  of  time.  This  being 
so,  the  criteria  of  art  applied  to  the  moving 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     235 

pictures  must  be  obviously  different  from 
those  applied,  say,  to  paintings  or  prints. 
The  laws  of  composition,  for  instance,  can 
not  possibly  be  the  same  as  in  the  latter 
cases.  What  they  are  I  will  not  here 
attempt  to  define,  but  an  artist  who  took 
up  the  kinematograph  would  find  that  such 
laws  do  exist  and,  gradually,  by  experiment 
and  practice,  he  would  subject  them  to 
his  control.  At  present,  our  ideas  on 
mobile  composition  are  so  undeveloped  and 
so  crude,  that  posterity  will  hardly  be  able 
to  believe  that  they  could  ever  have 
obtained.  It  is  only  necessary  to  remind 
ourselves  of  the  revolution  started  in  this 
field  by  Jacque  Dalcroze  with  his  rythmic 
gymnastics.  It  is  still  open  to  an  artist* 
to  give  it  a  worthy  counterpart  in  fixing 
it  on  the  film. 

In  this  connection  the  attempts  made 
by  Mr  A.  Wallace  Rimington  in  England, 
and  M.  Scriabin,  the  well-known  com- 
poser, in  Russia,  to  create  a  new  art  of 
colour-music,  are  of  interest.  Mr  Rimington 
has  already  given  us  a  detailed  exposition  of 


236     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

his  theory,  and  a  descriptor!  of  the  colour 
organ,  the  instrument  he  specially  invented 
for  this  purpose.  As  to  Scriabin's  achieve- 
ments, unfortunately  death  has  put  an 
untimely  end  to  his  experiments,  and  thus 
we  have  been  deprived  of  detailed  informa- 
tion concerning  the  actual  results  obtained. 
However,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
this  new  form  of  art  will  have  a  great 
future,  and  that  in  one  way  or  another  it 
will  become  one  of  the  most  essential  com- 
ponents of  the  artistic  kinematograph. 

The  second  kinema-photographic  problem 
is  akin  to  the  question  of  ordinary  photo- 
graphic prints.  Line  drawing  being  ex- 
cluded by  the  nature  of  photography  as 
'we  at  present  know  it,  the  problem  is  how 
to  achieve  the  best  results  with  a  medium 
similar  in  character  to  the  wash.  The 
problem  lies  not  so  much  with  the  lighting 
of  models  as  with  the  production  of  the 
film  and  projection  on  the  screen.  Greater 
artistic  effect  would,  probably,  be  achieved 
on  a  screen  of  more  solid  consistency  than 
those  now  in  vogue,  and  having  a  grained 


THE  K1NEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     237 

surface,  such,  for  instance,  as  would  be 
provided  by  a  white  plastered  wall.  Next, 
the  lights  and  shades  on  the  film  should 
also  give  more  concentrated,  solid,  and  flat 
masses,  thus  obviating  unnecessary  details, 
often  so  annoyingly  conspicuous.  The 
silhouette  picture-film,  a  method  of  treat- 
ment, little  popular  with  the  modern  kine- 
matograph,  but  possessing  wonderful  possi- 
bilities, should  be  mentioned  in  this 
connection.  For  fairy-tales,  grotesque  and 
sentimental  stories,  hardly  anything  could 
be  better  suited. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  recapitulate  the 
principal  points.  The  artistic  failure  of  the 
modern  kinematograph  is  due  solely  to  lack 
of  understanding  of  the  peculiar  properties 
of  this  medium.  The  latter  is  dynamic 
throughout.  Expression  of  the  rhythmic- 
ally moving  body  must  be  the  only  law 
of  the  actor,  expression  of  the  rhythmically 
moving  form  and  colour  the  only  law  of 
the  pictorial  artist. 

The  actor  must  cease  ignoring  the  dumb 
nature  of  the  kinematograph  in  performing 


238     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 

"  realistic  "  plays.  Pantomime  and  ballet 
are  the  only  forms  open  to  him.  He  can 
achieve  greatly  varying  psychological  effects 
by  staging  his  plays  in  two  or  three  dimen- 
sions. The  silhouette  is  the  form  of  acting 
where  the  one  plane  principle  of  staging 
finds  its  complete  expression. 

The  pictorial  artist  must  discriminate 
between  the  flat-screen  and  the  stereo- 
scopic kinematograph-projection.  With  the 
first  he  must  try  to  eliminate  all  relief,  to 
evolve  the  colour  value  of  black  and  white, 
and  to  make  the  screen  as  good  an  artistic 
medium  as  that  provided  by  paper.  With 
the  second,  he  must  solve  the  complicated 
problem  of  planes  and  volumes  which  this 
stereoscopic  form  of  projection  places  before 
him.  In  application  to  both  methods  he 
must  evolve  the  formulae  of  mobile  com- 
position and  mobile  colour. 

So  much  for  the  actor  and  the  artist. 

Above  all,  however,  the  kinematograph 
needs  men  of  genius,  of  deep  insight  and 
great  spiritual  culture.  More  than  the 
theatre,  it  is  a  synthetic  form  of  art,  as  both 


THE  KINEMATOGRAPH  AS  ART     239 

the  dramatic  and  the  pictorial  arts  con- 
stitute the  basic  elements  of  its  nature. 
To  be  raised  from  its  present  state  of 
degradation  it  requires  men,  who  would 
combine  in  themselves  the  talent  for 
dramatic  and  pictorial  presentation  with 
the  wisdom  of  sages  and  seers.  It  requires 
that  clear-consciousness  without  which  there 
is  no  real  personality  and  no  individual 
perception  of  the  world. 

Art  being  the  revelation  of  the  human 
spirit  in  everything  capable  of  expressing 
it,  the  only  condition  with  which  it  must 
of  necessity  comply,  is  the  use  of  the 
medium  in  accordance  with  its  nature. 
So  the  kinematograph  will  rise  to  the 
level  of  art  when  men  of  great  intelli- 
gence and  insight  express  themselves  in 
forms  determined  by  the  natural  properties 
of  this  new  medium.  Everything  seems  to 
indicate  that  we  shall  not  have  long  to 
wait. 


INDEX 


Alexandrinsky  Theatre,  The  (of 
Petrograd),  21,  39,  55,  67,  68 
Alexeyev  (Stanislavsky),  23,  25 
Alexis  Mikhailovich,  Tsar,  6-8 
A  Month  in  the  Country,  44 
Andreyev,  Leonid,  45,  212 
Anisfeld,  233 
Artem,  25 
At  the  Gates  of  the  Kingdom,  45 

B 

Bakst,  233 

Bat,  The  (of  Moscow),  83 
Benois,  Alexander,  85-86 
Block,  Alexander,  74,  75 
Blue  Bird,  The,  45 
Boris  Godunov,  17 


Carrier  Henschel,  The,  35 
Chekhov,  Anton,   17,  29,  38-43, 

1 86 

Cherry  Orchard,  The,  40 
Commedia  dell'  arte,  72,  73,  74 
Coqd'Or,  Le,  4,  85,  86 
Craig,  Gordon,  52,  53,  189-191, 

197,  201-206,  224,  229 
Cronegk,  34 

D 

Dalcroze,  xxiii,  235 
D'Annunzio,  Gabriel,  212 
Davidov,  21 
Dsath  of  Ivan  the  Terrible,  The, 

'7 

Delsarte,  xxiii 
Diderot,  19 


Distorted  Mirror,  The  (of  Petro- 
grad), 83 

Dmitrevsky,  Ivan,  10,  II,  12 
Dobuzhinsky,  44 
Don  Juan,  76 
Dostoyevsky,  105 


Elizabethan    Theatre,     161-166, 

167,  196 

Elizabeth,  Tsarina,  10 
Ermolov,  Mme,  21 
Euclid,  124 
Evreinov,    N.,    77-82,    93,   169, 

177-178,  188,  197 


Fedotov,  Mme,  21 
Fokin,  83,  84 
Fruits  of  Culture,  The,  1 6 
Fuchs,  Georg,  66 
Furttenbach,  Joseph,  191 

G 

Garrick,  David,  12 

Getting  Married,  14 

Gogol,  13,  14,  15 

Golovin,  233 

Greek  Theatre,  65,  69,  87,  88, 

90,    143-158,    167,    172-174, 

196 

Gregori,  7,  8 
Griboyedov,  13,  14,  15 

H 

Haig,  A.  E.,  150 
Hamlet,  53 
Hamsun,  Knut,  45 

241 


242     THE  MODERN  RUSSIAN  STAGE 


Hannele,  28 
Hebdon,  John,  6 
Helmholtz,  126,  133 
Houptmann,  28,  35 
House  of  Intermedia,    The   (of 
Petrograd),  82 


Ibsen,  44,  55 

Inspector-General,  The,  14,  187 
Italian  Theatre,  72,  73,  74,  166, 

168,  191 
Ivanov,  39 
Ivanov,  Viacheslav,  64,  101-120 

J 
Julius  Casar,  35 

K 

Kachalov,  51 
Karatigin,  19 
Knipper,  Mme,  25 
Kommissarzhevsky,     Vera,    39, 

54-56 
Krechtnskyfs  Marriage,  1 6 


Lensky,  21 

Life  of  Man,  The,  45 

Lilin,  Mme,  25 

Little  Booth,  The,  74.  75 

Live  Corpse,  The,  16 

Lobachevsky,  125 

Luzhsky,  25 

II 

Maeterlinck,  M.,  45,  61,  62,  63, 

65,  69,  197 
Marlow,  8 

Master  Builder,  The,  55 
Mediaeval  Theatre,  72,  158-161, 

167,  180-184,  196 
Meiningen  Company,  34 
Merchant  of  Venice,  The,  28 
Merezhkovsky,  106 


Merry  Theatre,  The  (of  Petro- 
grad), 82 

Meyerhold,  Vsevolod,  xxi,  25, 
46,  55-76,  77,  82,  83,  84,  93- 
94,  169-171,  188,  189,  197 

Miracle,  The,  xxiii,  172 

Mochalov,  19 

Moliere,  16,  73,  76 

Moscow  Art  Theatre,  The,  4,  17, 
22,  23-53,  56,  57,  58,  79,  88, 
92,  184-187,  197,  204 

Moscow  Imperial  Dramatic 
Theatre,  The,  20,  21 

Moskvin,  25,  51 

N 

Nemirovich-Danchenko,    Vladi- 
mir, 23,  25,  26,  38,  56 
Nietzsche,  103,  104,  113 

O 

CEdipus  Rex,  172 
Old-Time  Theatre,  The  (of  Petro- 
grad), 82 
Ostrovsky,  13,  15 


Peter  the  Great.  9 
Philharmonic   School,    The    (of 

Moscow),  24 
Picasso,  232 
Poulsen,  Anna,  7 
Power  of  Darkness,  The,  16 
Price  of  Life,  The,  38 
Pushkin,  17 
Pythagoras,  126 

R 

Reinhardt,    Max,  xxiii,  66,  169, 

171-177,  188,  189,  197 
'.  Riman,  125 

Rimington,  Wallace,  xxi,  235 
1  Rimsky-Korsakov,  85 

Roman  Theatre,  87,  91,  179-180 

Rozanov,  106 


INDEX 


243 


Sanin,  25 

Savin,  Mme,  21 

Savitsky,  Mme,  25 

Schepkin,  19,  20,  47 

Scriabin,  xxi,  235,  236 

Sea-gull,  The,  29,  39 

Serlio,  191 

Sezanne,  214 

Shakespeare,  73 

Society  of  Art   and  Literature, 

The  (of  Moscow),  23,  24,  25 
Sologub,  Fyodor,  64 
Soloviev,  Vladimir,  105 
Sorrow  from  Wisdom,  The,  14 
Stanislavsky,  Constantine  (Alex- 

eyev),  23,  25,  26,  39,  47,  50, 

52.  53.  56,  57 

Studio   Theatre,  The  (of    Mos- 
cow), 57 

Sukhovo-Kobilin,  1 6 

Sunken  Bell,  The,  28 


Talma,  19 

7amburlaine,  8 

Theatre  of  Musical  Drama,  The 

(of  Petrograd),  88 
Three  Sisters,  The,  40 
Tolstoy,  Alexis,  16,  17,  27 
Tolstoy,  Leo,  16,  105 
Tsar  Boris,  1J 
Tsar  Fyodor  Ivanovich,  17,  27, 

29 
Turgenev,  16,  17,  44 

U 
Uncle  Vania,  39 

V 

Van-Goch,  214 
Varlamov,  21 
Velten,  7 
Volkov,  Fyodor,  10,  II 


CONTEMPORARY   RUSSIAN 
COMPOSERS 

By  M.  MONTAGU-NATHAN 

Author  of  "  History  of  Russian  Music,"  "Glinka,"  "Moussovgsky," 
"  Rimsky-Korsakof,"  "  The  Piano  Music  of  Skryabin,"  etc. 

Demy  Svo.     Cloth.     75.  6d.  net 
Illustrated  with  Portraits  of  Famous  Russian  Musicians 

This  book  is  a  survey  of  the  evolution  of  the  modern 
Russian  Musical  School  and  a  number  of  studies  devoted 
to  the  work  of  such  Composers  as  GLAZOUNOF,  RAKH- 
MANINOF,  SKRYABIN,  REBIKOF,  STRAVINSKY,  TANEYEF, 
MEDTNER,GNIESSIN,  PROKOFIEF,  MIASKOVSKY,  and  others. 


CONTEMPORARY   RUSSIAN 
NOVELISTS 

By  SERGE  PERSKY 

Translated  from  the  French  by  FREDERICK  EISEMANN 
SECOND  EDITION.      Crown  8vo.      Cloth.      318  //.      33.  6d.  net 

This  book  gives  a  general  knowledge  of  Russian  litera- 
ture of  to-day.  The  Author  has  subordinated  purely 
critical  material  to  enable  his  readers  to  form  their  own 
judgment.  The  volume  contains  chapters  on  VLADIMIR 
KOROLENKO,  MAXIM  GORKY,  VIKENTY  UERESSAYEV, 
LEONID  AUDREYEV,  DMITRY  MEREZHKORSKY,  and  ALEX- 
ANDER KUPRIN. 

CECIL  PALMER  &  HAYWARD 


A  New  Book  by  "SUB  ROSA" 
THINGS  THAT  DON'T  COUNT.    By  SPENCER 

LEIGH  HUGHES,  M.  P.  Crown  8vo,  128  pages.  Sewed,  is.  3d. 
net ;  cloth,  2s.  6d.  net. 

A  volume  of  essays  on  present-day  topics  in  "SUB  ROSA'S"  well-known 
humorous  style.  All  the  essays  are  entirely  new.  It  is  a  BRIGHT  BOOK 
for  DULL  DAYS. 

SONGS   OF  THE   "SPECIALS."    By  E.   W. 

FORDHAM.  With  an  Introduction  by  G.  K.  CHESTERTON. 
Six  Illustrations  in  Black  and  White  by  HUGH  G.  RIVIERE. 
is.  6d.  net. 

A  brilliant  book  of  humorous  verses  by  a  Special  Constable  for  "Specials" 
and  human  beings.  Some  of  these  lyrics  have  been  inspired  in  circumstances, 
and  under  the  sway  of  emotion,  from  which  it  would  be  almost  profanity,  cer- 
tainly it  would  be  indelicate,  to  lift  the  reil.  The  "  official "  life  of  a  "  Special " 
— especially  the  night  life — is  a  "thing  apart,"  and  about  it  and  about  he  who 
reads  may  learn.  "The  only  thing,"  writes  Mr  G.  K.  Chesterton,  "that  could 
give  me  more  pleasure  than  this  collection  of  verses  would  be  a  German  critique 
of  it." 

SONGS  OF  THE  WORLD  WAR.     By  A.  ST 

JOHN  ADCOCK.  Parchment  Cover,  lettering  in  gold.  is.  6d. 
net. 

A  volume  of  poems,  revealing  the  evolution  of  a  man  of  Peace  into  a  man  of 
War.  They  express  the  moods  and  experiences  that  have  been  common  to 
many  men  in  these  latter  days. 

HINDUISM:   THE   WORLD    IDEAL.     By 

HARENDRANATH  MAITRA  (Editor  of  "  A  Voice  from  India  "). 
With  a  lengthy  Introduction  by  G.  K.  CHESTERTON.  Crown 
8vo.  Cloth,  2S.  6d.  net. 

The  book  is  a  convincing  presentation  of  Hinduism  to  the  British  public  from 
the  pen  of  a  clever  Indian  writer.  Mr  G.  K.  Chesterton  contributes  a  brilliant 
introduction,  advising  every  Englishman  to  read  what  an  Indian  thinks  about 
India. 

TWENTIETH  THOUSAND.     (SECOND  EDITION) 

THE  CRIMES   OF   ENGLAND.     By  G.  K. 

CHESTERTON.  Crown  8vo,  sewed,  is.  net.  Cloth  gilt,  2s.  6d. 
net. 

"The  most  brilliant  piece  of  English  prose  ever  written  on  the  War." — The 
Times. 

THE  BALKANS  IN  CARICATURE.     Edited 

by  T.  D.  HADJICH  (Contributor  to  the  Serbian  Royal  Academy 
of  Science).     Imp.  oblong  8vo.     Sewed,  is.  net. 
A  unique  collection  of  the  World's  War  cartoons  specifically  relating  to  the 

Balkans.     A  feature  of  the  work  is  the  text  which  is  printed  in  five  languages — 

English,  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  and  German. 


CECIL  PALMER  &  HAYWARD 


IN  PREPARATION 

Modern  Russian  Painters 

By  ALEXANDER  BAKSHY 

Author  of  "The  Path  of  the  Modern  Russian  Stage,"  eta 

Demy  Sv0.     Cloth,     75.  6d.  net.     Illustrated 

Except  for  the  names  of  one  or  two  artists,  Russian 
painting  is  practically  unknown  in  this  country.  It 
deserves,  however,  as  much  attention  as  Russian  litera- 
ture and  music.  Quite  a  number  of  Russian  Masters 
may  be  ranked  with  the  most  renowned  representatives 
of  modern  art  of  Europe,  whilst  the  peculiarities  of  style 
and  historical  development  give  the  Russian  school  of 
painters  a  character  that  is  distinctly  its  own.  Mr 
Bakshy's  work  will  give  an  account  of  the  leading  modern 
artists,  and  trace  the  influences  which  they  have  exercised 
in  the  modern  development  of  Russian  painting.  Amongst 
the  older  generation  of  artists  it  will  deal  with  the  work 
of  RIEPIN,  SURIKOV,  VASNETSOV,  SEROV,  and  others 
who  adhered  to  the  realistic  traditions ;  the  aesthetic 
movement,  with  its  ramifications  of  visionary  spiritualism 
and  quests  for  a  style,  will  be  illustrated  by  the  work  of 
VRUBEL,  CHURLIANISS,  ROERIKH,  SOMOV,  BAKST,  Mus- 
SATOV,  and  a  number  of  others ;  and  lastly,  the  latest 
tendencies  will  be  shown  by  the  description  of  the  work 
of  the  younger  artists. 


The  Publishers  will  be  glad  to  send  their  complete 
illustrated  Catalogue  post  free  on  application 


CECIL  PALMER  &  HAYWARD 


WAR,    PROGRESS,   AND   THE 
END   OF   HISTORY 

Including  a  Short  Story  of  the  Anti-Christ 

Three  Discussions  by 
VLADIMIR  SOLOVIEV 

Translated  from  the  Russian  by 
ALEXANDER  BAKSHY 

With  a  Biographical  Notice  by  Dr  HAGBERG  WRIGHT 
Crown  &vo.     Cloth.     2S.  6d.  net 


PUBLISHED  BY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  LONDON  PRESS,  LONDON 


UCSB    LIBRARY 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  634  967     4 


